Bad Shojo Comics

Yuletide Recs

2009-12-28T02:13:02Z

I was moping about, being generally unimpressed with life, and then checked wycynic's journal and realized that I had forgotten about yuletide! There was indeed quite a bit of not very good stuff, but then there were the astonishing things. And thus, recs:

Astonishing:

Fandom: I Capture the Castle, Dodie Smith
The Account Book – Perfect, and full of so many precise gorgeous details. It feels like you’re back in that world. I didn't realize how much I missed it until I got to the bit about Topaz...

Fandom: In This House of Brede, Rumer Godden
Journeys – I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw this. I loved the book, and the tale told is in that same slow contemplative productive vein. It was beautiful.

Cute:

Fandom: Howl’s Moving Castle Series, Diana Wynne Jones
Five Domestic Moments - Cute. I always felt that Sophie and Howl were such an improbable couple. They remain improbable in this.

Cave Canem - Lovely. The last line makes it. The vision of the adult Charmaine is so much like me, and it's important not to be bullied by people who don't understand books.

Fandom: Imagine Me & You
Dandelion – I started this and was like, “oh! Good, someone else has written the pair to my Red Poppies, which I never got around to.” But it was better. The author has gotten Rachel, and her slightly apologetic selfishness, perfectly right. The end of the movie was shmoopy and romantic, but there was a tangled web of pain and misery that still needed to be dealt with. This one makes it cute.

All canon ships! How odd! If you can really call them ships, since the only one that's really romantic is Dandelion, and that's rather the least of the bunch.

I feel like drowning in a bit of Dodie Smith or Rumer Godden for a while. *sighs*

Scott's Emma 4

2009-12-25T22:29:06Z

Title: Scott’s Emma (Part 4, Final Part)

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma/Emma, Emma/Scott, Emma/Emily, Emily/JJ

Rating: NC-17

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Word Count: 2156

Prompt: 032. Anal Sex

Apologies: Happy Christmas/Boxing Day! Sorry, I’ve run out of smut in this part. L

It was actually a nice date. Emma was impressed. Scott was making an effort to actually talk about interesting things (i.e. the school) and not horribly dull things (i.e. whether or not Skrulls were likely to invade again). It was too bad she was having a difficult time paying attention, with the image of Emily, skirt hiked up, black lace garters and fishnets, head tipped back, and coming so hard around her cock, fixed in her frontal lobe.

And then things started happening, without her consent, and Scott was kneeling on the floor, with a box, with a ring, and utter panic took over.

She must have managed to say something like, ‘I’ll think about it,’ because she was out of there, the box in her hand, and clinging to the door handle.

He wanted to marry her. Emma couldn’t even think, she just acted. A small bag of clothes, a phone call and she was out of the mansion and on her way to Washington DC.

* * *

“What are you doing here? How did you get my address?” Emily’s eyes were wide and panicked. Emma hadn’t expected that reception. But she wouldn’t be turned away.

“I’m a telepath!” She snapped. “It’s not that hard when I can read your mind!”

“I can’t.” Emily clenched her fists. “I can’t have you here!”

“I need you to fuck me.”

“Get out!”

“You owe me!” Emma shoved her into her house and onto the couch. She shut the door and locked it. Emily was furious. “I fucked you better than you’ve ever been fucked before. I came at your call like a fucking dog, and you’re sending me away?”

“Fine! I owe you. But I can’t do this anymore.”

Emma pulled out the box, and opened it. “Tell me what this is.”

Emily stared, her face going pale. “It’s a ring.”

“Scott gave it to me.”

“Oh.”

Emma looked sharply at her. She hadn’t expected that tone, or the knot of complexity in her head.

“And I can’t… I can’t decide because Scott is everything I thought I wanted, until…”

Emily looked at her, desperate. “Don’t say it.”

“You were everything to her,” Emma said weakly. “I… I didn’t know I was capable of that, of feelings like that. But there’s you…”

“Don’t say that.” Emily cut her off. “Don’t say it because it’s not true. You don’t love me. You don’t even know me. I am a good fuck, and you and your stupid appreciation for sex ruined me for normal intimacy, but I am trying so hard to get over it.” She shook her head. “But you… you can’t come here and say those things. Just marry him. Marry him and leave me alone!”

“You didn’t meet her, you didn’t know…”

“In some other world you could have been my everything, but you’re not. You’re the woman I call when I want sex that’s too kinky for my girlfriend to give me. That’s all you are, and you will never be more than that. You are a selfish person. You cheat and don’t even think twice about it. I can’t make that part of my life.”

“I could make you need me.”

Emily stared straight at her. There weren’t any barriers to her thoughts. It felt like a dare. “You made JJ forget. I was grateful at the time. But it’s not fair, Emma. I deserve to be punished for my mistakes. And you are a mistake.”

“You are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you, darling?” Emma’s eyes narrowed. “I could give you more of that than you could ever deserve.”

“Don’t threaten me. I can’t fight you. I have no power over you. But don’t come here and tell me you love me when all you want is a way out of a situation you got yourself into. If you don’t want Scott, then leave him. But don’t leave him for me.”

“I didn’t… come here for that. I just wanted…”

“To know if I really was as good as you remembered?” Emily shook her head. “What difference would it make? I’m cutting you off. And I can’t say I’ve known you for a long time, but would being married actually stop you from sleeping around?”

Emma looked away. “I never wanted it. It never interested me. But I had never imagined that it would be possible to weigh the odds and choose to stay with someone. That the risk was greater than the potential for pleasure.”

“I never asked that of you.”

“Of course not,” Emma flashed her a wry grin. “That’s just the irony of it. You were a perfect affair. No strings, no demands and no… restrictions. If it weren’t for my irritating double, I could have been satisfied with that. I could have approached this rationally, weighing the benefits versus the alternatives. But no, you’ve made me act insane.”

Emily shook her head. “It’s just, even if I weren’t already with someone, I don’t know if I would choose to be with you. You’re not what I want. I know we… connect sexually. But I’ve had relationships like that before. It’s not enough.”

“Oh, honestly-“

“No! If I gave her up, then what? Would you leave Scott for me? Would you leave your job, your life, your superherodom because I wanted you to? Of course not.”

“Fine. If that’s what you think of me, then I have my answer. I thought that maybe it could be better, maybe I could have someone who I could be satisfied with, whose company I liked rather than tolerated. But it is clear that I could never be that person for you and I should give up.”

Emma turned and walked out, the door shutting with a brisk click behind her. Emily sagged onto the couch.

None of this seemed real or even possible. How could she just come in here like that, and make something that was barely an encounter, not even a real affair, something undeniably wrong, sound like it could be… everything.

* * *

It wasn’t until the next day at work that Emily realized she had underestimated exactly how much of a bitch Emma could be.

JJ came in, talking and laughing with Reid, carrying coffee. She looked over to where Emily was sitting and smiled, and then suddenly her eyes widened and a horrified expression crossed her face, as if she were recovering an awful memory. Her coffee hit the floor and exploded.

“Oh fuck.”

To sum up, there was a lot of yelling and some crying, and Emily abasing herself generally. Reid was shocked. Morgan disapproved. Garcia crashed all of Emily’s electronic equipment. Hotch finally threw the whole team out until they could stop making a scene at the work place. Hotch barked at Emily to stop screwing her colleagues, which was rather unfair, as the plural was completely unfounded.

It was awful, but not underserved.

* * *

“It’s pretty clear Scott, that marriage is your way of signaling the end of a relationship. If that’s what you want, then let’s do it without the hassle.”

Emma handed him back the ring. He looked shocked and hurt.

“I know I haven’t been the best of husbands in the past.” Emma snorted. “But they were a mistake!”

“No. This is a mistake. I, unlike some people, know a mistake when I see one. Particularly when I have a physical repulsion to the prospect. How about instead of making idiotic decisions, let’s try some honesty. How many times have you cheated on me since Jean died?”

Scott stiffened and looked offended. It was rather amusing that he had the same reaction for being guilty as for being innocent. “I wouldn’t-“

“No. The correct response is, ‘I haven’t, because I know you don’t have any of Jean’s little issues of ‘privacy’ and thus have been too terrified to do so.’”

Scott’s mouth turned even farther down in his ‘upset face.’

“Now tell me how many times you could have cheated.” She waited. “You don’t know?” Emma narrowed her eyes. “Every single time you wanted to. I would not have cared. You are not important to me. Now it’s your turn, ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me how many times I’ve cheated on you.”

“What!” And finally his face went red. “With who?”

“You want me to remember names?” Emma rolled her eyes. “And it’s ‘with whom.’”

“But- but I-”

“Now ask me how many of them were better than you? No? All of them. But there was only one that I would have left you for.”

Scott stared at her for a long time. “This isn’t… you leaving me?”

“No. I’m giving you an opportunity to see the world without your rose tinted goggles on. I am giving you an opportunity to rethink your idiocy.” She glanced pointedly at the velvet box in his hand. “But I’m not going anywhere. If you’re going to be bitter and jealous and try to get me fired, it’s your loss. Right now, with Jean dead and the Professor gone, I’m the only telepath you’ve got. Weigh your duty to your team against your pride. You do it often enough. I’ve respected you enough to tell you the truth, even if you don’t deserve it.”

“Did you ever care for me?”

“Of course,” Emma said, as if it weren’t an uncomfortable confession. “But caring for someone and sexual exclusivity have never been particularly closely related for me. They need… separate motivations.”

She left then, not wanting to suffer through his period of processing. She couldn’t help but consider that she actually was more like her double than she had assumed.

“I’m in love with her, but all that means is I get upset when we fight, and I don’t freak out when she’s in my bed in the morning. The sex is astonishingly consistent, whatever else is going on.”

* * *

It took about a week of anguish, but eventually Emily called her mother. “Hi, do you have Tony Stark’s number? I’m trying to get in contact with someone I met at his party.”

“Really, darling? Anyone I ought to know about?”

“No. Most definitely not.”

“Well, well,” said Tony, with a clearly audible grin on his face. “Would my dear Emma appreciate me giving you her number, or should I expect punishment?”

“Um, which would you prefer?”

Tony laughed. “Either one is fine.”

“Do you, er, know if she’s… engaged to Scott?”

There was a long pause. “What?” Tony yelped. “She had better not be, or I will make certain of it!”

“Oh, so you haven’t heard anything then. Good.”

It took another few days to get up the nerve to dial the number she had procured. And even then she still hadn’t quite decided whether the whole thing was a terrible idea or not yet (although she was tending towards the idea that it was).

It rang four times and then was finally answered with a rather incredulous and very cold, “Emily?”

“Hi,” Emily said weakly. “I’m not calling you for sex.”

Emma snorted, although she managed to sound offended while doing so, which was a feat.

“I… may have been hasty in some of the things I said the last time I saw you.”

“I’m not interested in apologies.”

“This isn’t an apology,” Emily replied flatly, and then winced at the way that sounded. “I mean… I could be right, and you could be exactly the sort of person I don’t want to be with. But I really don’t think I can hold the cheating over your head. I’m not that hypocritical.”

“I’m still uncertain of why you’ve called.”

“Well, I sort of, um, have found myself unattached.”

“She didn't forgive you then.”

“That was unnecessary, Emma. I may have deserved it, but she didn’t.”

“Well, sometimes you get what you don’t deserve.”

Emily laughed, although it hadn’t been intended as a joke. “That’s sort of what I’m banking on.”

“Is it?” Emma’s voice had dropped a few tones, which was a positive sign.

“So I… made a lot of assumptions without really knowing you very well. And I think you did too. You might… find me really irritating if you knew me better. But I thought it wouldn’t be a bad thing if we did try and-“

“Get to know each other better?” Emma asked with a mild hint of sarcasm in her tone.

“It’s not a terrible idea!”

“Just admit it. The fact that I took my vengeance on you really turned you on.”

“Shut up.”

Emma snickered. “I have to be in DC for a business meeting next week. Shall I pencil you in?”

Emily leaned back against the wall and almost let herself smile. “Yeah, that will be good.”

“Should I… bring anything?”

“You are deliberately misinterpreting the purpose of this meeting!”

“But if it goes well I want to be prepared!”

“Emma!”

FIN

Scott's Emma 3

2009-12-25T04:36:51Z

Title: Scott’s Emma (Part 3)

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma/Emma, Emma/Scott, Emma/Emily, Emily/JJ

Rating: NC-17

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Word Count: 1997

Prompt: 032. Anal Sex

Apologies: Happy Christmas! More smut!

I wrote most of this while reading yaoi webcomics. It shows.

JJ was flushed with wine and sitting on her sofa. Emily sat across from her, knees, tucked up, and watched her, wondering when she’d hit the degree of drunkenness where she would stop worrying and be interested in sex.

It had taken a week of nights spent making out on the couch to get to third base. But once she had made it there, it was completely impossible to get JJ to leave before she came. Yet she had to be sloshed to do it.

It felt humiliating, and after she had had sex with a stranger completely sober, it seemed unnecessary. This was a waste of time.

“Jayj?”

JJ looked up.

“Go into my bedroom, and take off your clothes. I want you naked and bent over my bed.”

JJ dropped her wine glass. “What?” she squeaked.

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Emily narrowed her eyes. “To get fucked. Oh, and touch yourself until you’re ready, I’m not wasting any more time.”

She walked out of the room. God that felt good. She found her equipment and braced up. She’d give her ten minutes. It would probably take her half that long before she talked herself into it.

JJ was squirming under her on the bed, gasping and mewling as Emily fucked her. She came and collapsed back onto the pillows. “God, I love you.”

“Really?” Emily rolled onto her side and started unfastening straps.

JJ cuddled into her back. “Of course.”

Emily considered her for a little while. “Do you think… we could try something new?”

“Like what?” JJ smiled cutely.

“Do you think you could use your fingers in…” She couldn’t say it. She rolled over and demonstrated.

The look on JJ’s face suggested that the answer was going to be ‘hell no!’

She just remembered the way it felt, like nothing else. It felt wrong, and delicious at the same time. It hurt, it was punishment and pleasure, all it one, and Emily hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

But JJ couldn’t stomach it, and Emily sighed, and let her go.

* * *

She tried to do as much as she could herself, sat propped up by pillows, with lube and toys, but it wasn’t the same. She always knew what she was going to do before she did it. She kept the card tucked safely in her gun case.

When they were in New York, chasing a serial killer, she gave the number a call.

“Friday night. There’s a club on B Street. I’ll find you.”

Most of the team wanted to go out that night. They had wrapped up the case, and Morgan wanted to party. He convinced Reid to come, and Emily and JJ were a given. They didn’t usually go dancing, but they all dressed up, as best they could with the stuff they had brought. Emily was the only one who had been prepared. She had brought a short black dress, to wear with thigh-high fishnets and no underwear. When she realized everyone was coming along, she reconsidered, but she didn’t have anything else that was nice enough. (Or accessible enough). The other three couldn’t stop looking at her.

The club was a crush of bodies. Loud music sent vibrations pounding through the floor. Emily glanced around. She wasn’t quite certain whether she was happy or distressed that it seemed impossible to find anyone in this place.

Morgan came back with drinks and they appropriated a table. JJ was sitting half in her lap, which was rather uncomfortable, particularly because it was impossible to feel her rubbing against her garters and not think of what she had come here to do.

<<Found you,>> she heard in her head, and she looked up, her gaze being drawn to a tall skinny boy, in jeans and a hoodie, with the hood up, leaning against the wall.

A shiver ran through her shoulders. She had forgotten what that tone, mental or not, did to her. It made her knees itch.

“I’m gonna find the bathroom,” she said, extricating herself from underneath JJ.

JJ blinked up at her and started to stand. “I could go-“

“I’m fine,” Emily snapped, trying to get rid of her. She ducked into the crowd.

She was passing the cloakroom when a hand shot out and caught her wrist, jerking her inside. The boy had her pressed up against a wall of coats, and soft fingers ran down the side of her face.

“I have to say that I love it that you dressed up for me.”

Emily flushed. “You… you dressed up too.” Emma rubbed her hips against Emily and she felt the hardness there. “Oh…”

“It's easier when people expect it to be there.”

Emily felt herself get wet.

“And I think I know exactly where you want it.”

She nodded, weakly.

“Get on your knees.”

Emily dropped with at thud to her knees and groped for the zipper to Emma’s jeans. She didn’t care that she was in public, or that people were coming in and out of the room. She extracted the dildo and immediately sucked as much into her mouth as she could until she gagged on it.

She hadn’t noticed JJ follow her. But Emma had, and Emma made sure she had just the right angle to see her girlfriend eagerly choke down some boy’s cock. She froze, unable to believe it, and unable to look away.

Emily mouthed it and laved it with her tongue until it was slick with spit. “God, you don’t know how much I need this.”

“Yes, I do.” And Emma did. It was easy to slide into her head, her fingers clenching her jeans, one wrapped around the base of the cock, the head of it hitting the back of her throat, sometimes painfully, the slick moisture gathering between her thighs, the way she ached for it. It was delicious, and Emma couldn’t get enough. She needed to be desired. She fed off of others’ desire for her. Without it there was nothing.

“Get up.” She jerked on Emily’s hair. “Hands against the wall.”

Emily obeyed swiftly, bending over slightly and leaving her legs spread in a perfect position. Emma hiked up her skirt and slid her fingers into her pussy. God, she was wet. She used the moisture to play with Emily’s asshole. She was going to have to really loosen her up if she was really going to take her virginity with this cock. Emily released a gasp at the first touch and then let out a light groan, and Emma’s fingers slipped in easily. It was tight, but not resistant. It was perfect.

“You’ve been practicing.”

She had brought extra lube. It was never worth undergreasing something, unless you wanted them to bleed, and although that was occasionally entertaining, the first time should be painless. She smeared it on generously, and then pressed the head of her cock against Emily’s anus. Emily gave a weak whimper and spread her legs even farther.

“You’re such a little whore, begging for this.”

“Please don’t tease me.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not a tease. But I want you to squeal. I want your pretty little girlfriend to know every move I make inside of you.”

Emily gasped and her eyes widened. She glanced over her shoulder to see JJ’s staring eyes and shocked expression, and Emma thrust inside.

Emily let out a scream.

“Is it good? Is it as good as you thought it was going to be?”

Emily was crying now, clinging to the coats as Emma nailed her.

“I can’t get deep enough like this.” Emma flipped her and moved in, shoving her back up against the coats. Emily groped for purchase, for a hook or a sturdy jacket, and the cock slid up her asshole, and she groaned. Emma was fucking her, hips thrusting like a jackhammer, pinning her body to the wall as she drove up and then pulled out and Emily would fall, just a little, impaling herself on the cock.

It must have been ages, but it felt like years, for Emily, desperately clinging to the edge of sanity, not willing to fall, and then Emma slammed into her, and she screamed and came loose, her whole body coming together in a blinding electric orgasm.

Emma dropped her, her body taking over as she felt her come, neurons singing in sympathetic vibration, bringing her to climax as well and they tumbled into a heap on the pile of coats.

“God,” Emma mumbled as she withdrew. “I love you in fishnets.”

Emily just whimpered at the ache of the emptiness inside her.

Emma kissed her, sloppily, smearing her lipstick, as she fastened up her pants. “Next time’s my turn.”

And she was gone.

* * *

Eventually Emily managed to get to her feet. She walked gingerly back to the couches.

JJ glanced up at her and smiled. “Hey, everything good? We were thinking its pretty late and it might be time to go.”

Emily nodded weakly. She really hoped they weren’t going to take a taxi because she wasn’t able to sit down. But they caught the subway, and she refused the offer of an empty seat. She knew that JJ had seen, but she didn’t remember. Emma had to have made her forget.

It was kind of terrifying.

Morgan stopped by her room on the way to his own and sat in her desk chair, looking at her for a long time. “Emily, I want you to be able to trust me.”

Emily cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“You were gone for a long time. JJ followed you, and then came back all perky as if everything was fine, and then you come back, with your lipstick worn off, and… walking like you’ve been nailed by your scout leader…”

Emily’s eyes widened.

“I know what ass sex looks like, Ems, and you aren’t sitting down for a reason.”

Emily wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I thought… I thought for a moment that it was Jayj. You guys have been having something going for a while, haven’t you? But it wasn’t, was it? You didn’t want her to come with you. You found someone and hooked up at the club.”

Emily looked at her hands, but she didn’t deny it.

“I just,” Morgan looked tortured. “I don’t get it. I thought you had something good. But you’re blowing it, Prentiss. Maybe she doesn’t know, but you’re fucking around on her. And that’s not okay! She’s my friend.”

Emily sighed. “I know. I know I’m screwing things up. But sometimes I need something that JJ can’t give me… won’t give me. There are some things she wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, Derek.”

“Like your ass.”

Emily glared at him. “Yes, like my ass. And I wanted to know what it was like, so I… made arrangements, and if you don’t like it, bite me. It was an experiment. I’ve done it. It was great. It’s over.”

Morgan looked disgusted, and shook his head. “I didn’t think you were like this, Emily. You sound like a guy.”

Emily dropped onto the bed. It hurt too much to sit, so she flopped over onto her back, tears in her eyes. “I know! I’ve never been like this before! I’ve never made such bad decisions, for sex! I’ve never risked anything for sex before her.”

Morgan’s ears pricked up. “Her?”

Emily sighed. “It doesn’t matter. She took out the business card. “I’m not going to call her again.”

She flicked her lighter twice, and held it over the empty ashtray until it was just ash.

She looked Morgan straight in the eye. “I know I’ve done some pretty awful things, and maybe she deserves to know. But I’m not going to do it again. Tell her if you need to, but if you don’t, I will do my best not to screw this up.”

* * *

Part 4

Scott's Emma 2

2009-12-24T03:01:11Z

Title: Scott’s Emma (Part 2)

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma/Emma, Emma/Scott, Emma/Emily, Emily/JJ

Rating: NC-17

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Word Count: 2703

Prompt: 032. Anal Sex

Apologies: Happy Christmas Eve! And what do good fic readers get for Christmas? Smut!

What do good fic writers get? Hint, hint.

Scott was boring at parties. He didn’t dance, and he preferred to talk to men about threats to world peace, and he didn’t drink. It was repulsive. Luckily, it was Tony’s party, so Emma had plenty of friends.

“Oh Emma, you brought that boring lump with you?” asked Tony, wryly.

“He wanted to spy on you. Introduce me around, I need to find someone to dance with.”

“Mother! I didn’t want to come to this, and you wouldn’t let me bring anyone, and now you’re-“

The older woman put a finger to the other’s lips, silencing her instantly. She didn’t even look to do it, instead she waved to Tony and did something that resembled a curtsey. The younger crossed her eyes to glare at the finger. “Oh, Mr. Stark! My daughter, Emily.”

Tony bowed. “Pleased to meet you, Madmoiselle.”

Emma was straight. She was straight, straight, straight, she told herself. But her name was Emily.

“This is my friend, Emma Frost. Emma, this is the Ambassador and her daughter, Emily Prentiss.”

The younger woman looked at her, all dark eyes and a direct but guarded gaze. For a moment, Emma couldn’t find words. This could not be happening. “Charmed,” she said.

“Emma’s looking for a dancing partner. Interested?”

A flush made the tops of Emily’s cheeks glow red. It was darling.

Emma reached out and took her hand. “Oh please, say yes.”

“A- all right.”

They swept off. There was a little stir, but it was Tony’s party, and there was very little considered out of the ordinary at one of Tony’s parties. Most people who looked recognized her, decided that she had found another victim, and looked away again. Scott didn’t even look over, too involved in his conversation with Nick Fury.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Emily finally asked. “Like I’m something utterly shocking and slightly unnerving.”

“You would probably find it absurd if I told you.”

“It might be less unnerving than waiting for you to pounce.”

Emma laughed. “Well, you see, I… lost consciousness once, a few weeks ago, and I… had a dream.”

“I have the feeling that you’re editing things out.”

Emma considered this. “Do you know who I am?”

Emily looked at her closely. “I only know of the Frost corporation.”

“There’s two. The successful one is mine.”

Emily laughed. “Good to know.”

She was amused. It was… rather pleasant to be near her. It was rather surprising to discover that she was human, but at Tony’s this was not necessarily a mark of disfavor. Her mind was direct and coherent, and she didn’t seem to think anything of import that she didn’t say. Also she had decent, if not opaque shields that made her thoughts muted, and not interject themselves into the conversation.

She also didn’t have to worry about her feet while dancing. This was generally a good sign of coordination. It might be worth giving her a ride. Just to see if that other Emma hadn’t overestimated her capabilities.

“All I will say is that I do occasionally come into contact with rather odd things. In my dream, I met myself, and she told me all about you.”

Emily snorted. “What?”

“Well,” Emma decided to qualify this statement. “She told me about the you that she was fucking.”

Emily pulled away from her, dropping into a defensive position, her hand moving towards her side, but finding nothing there. “Don’t be disgusting-“

Emma, not letting her go, backed her against the wall, pinning her there. “She told me a lot of things that you wouldn’t want me to know. But I’m not trying to offend you. I’m just answering your question.”

Emily held her self stiffly, but she didn’t try to pull away, (or put a fist in Emma’s gut, which she was clearly considering). “You had a dream, and you told yourself about me? About my sexual proclivities?”

“Well, first we argued about whether or not my choice in lovers was repulsive, and then she was shocked that I didn’t know you. She explained why I should at least try you out, and then I managed to weasel out of her that she had fallen in love with you, to a mildly unnerving degree.”

“You sound incredibly stalkerish right now.”

“I never stalked you! This was a fortuitous accident! When Tony said your name… It was quite a surprise. I had thought you were a creation of my imagination, but it seems that I may have actually managed to end up in an alternate universe, at least mentally.”

Emily’s jaw sagged open. “I know where I know you from. You’re an-“

“X-man?” Emma rolled her eyes. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“A problem for what?”

“For hooking up in one of Tony’s guest rooms. Because, honestly, I want to fuck you, if only to evaluate the rest of my double’s information, and if you’re going to get mutant-phobic on me, it won’t be worth the trouble.”

“I’m not mutant-phobic.”

“Some of your best friends are mutants?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. As was my ex-fiancé who I was planning on having children with.”

Emma blinked. “Um, I was under the impression that you were a lesbian.”

Emily waved her hand. “Yes. Not actually relevant.”

“Very true. Back to the topic. Upstairs? Now?”

“I’m in a relationship!”

Emma gave her a look. “That wasn’t a no, exactly, was it?”

“What!”

“Ooh, still not a no.”

“No! I’m not going to go upstairs and sleep with you!”

Emma cocked her head, considering the mess of complications that was going through her head. “Your girlfriend’s not here, right? If you can really call someone that when you haven’t even slept with her yet. Look, I’m not interested in starting an affair, or building a relationship. My… current, is over there, being boring, and all I want to do is see if the reality is as good as the hype.”

“There was hype?”

Emma smiled. She was intrigued; she was as good as caught. “I think I could do something for you too.”

“I can’t-“

“It’s just one night. No one has to know.”

Emily glanced away at the glistening parquet. “That just sounds like tempting fate.”

“I can make sure that no one knows. I can even make you forget afterwards, if it’s awful.”

“No.” She looked up. “I don’t want that.”

“So you’ll do it.”

Emily froze, caught in her own words, and then she nodded slowly. “All right.”

* * *

It was never easy to have sex with someone you had just met without the aid of the social lubricant (alcohol). And it was clear that Emily was having second thoughts. She was stiff and nervous, but honestly, lovely, in an odd, human, way.

Emma stepped in behind her and put her hand on the zipper of her dress. She pressed a light kiss to Emily’s neck. “We shouldn’t want to get this wrinkled.”

“Try not to mess up my hair.”

Emma laughed quietly as she unzipped her dress and helped her out of it. “I’m not making any promises.”

She seemed embarrassed at being in her underclothes, but the woman had perfect breasts, and a narrow bony frame. It wasn’t superhero-standard, but the toned muscles and occasional scar were quite familiar.

“You’re rather beautiful, you know.”

Emily looked up at her, her eyes wide and innocent. Emma kissed her.

It got easier after that. Emily’s hand slid to her zipper, and then they were on the bed, in their underwear, still kissing. Emma quickly unhooked her bra, and slid her hands over the woman’s breasts.

“God,” she whispered, “Your breasts…”

She dipped her head, nipping at Emily’s neck, kissing her collarbone, and then wrapping her lips around a nipple. Emily’s back arched. “Oh…”

“This all right?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Emma’s fingers slipped between her legs, feeling the heat. Her double hadn’t been joking about pliant, responsive and receptive. Emily lifted her hips, grinding into her fingers. And then her hands, fingers tangled in Emma’s hair, jerked her up until their mouths met once more. There was no hesitation here, just hot wet kisses, tongues entwining, and Emily flipped her onto her back and hovered over her, kissing her roughly as she removed her bra and let her fingers splay over her belly.

And then she was moving down, leaving quick kisses, bites and licks over her breasts and stomach. Her fingers hooked Emma’s underwear and tugged them down and off, tossing them aside. And she bit lightly at Emma’s inner thigh, and then Emma knew that her double had not overstated the situation at all.

Emma was gasping and squirming and then coming again and again with Emily’s mouth, her lips and tongue, and… “Oh, fuck!”

Emily looked up, her lips glistening, and smiling in a sort of self-satisfied, but innocent and hopeful way. “All right?”

“Holy fuck,” Emma mumbled. “Give me a minute, but I have to fuck you senseless.”

Emily laughed, sitting back on her heels. “It’s all right. I mean, you don’t…”

Emma sat up and gave her a look. “Oh, no way. You do not get to win this by martyring yourself.”

“M-martyring?” Emily looked bewildered. “I mean, I enjoy-“

But Emma hooked her by the back of her neck and jerked her down on top of her, her mouth finding Emily’s and tasting herself. Her fingers tucked between her legs, and slid along the damp warmth of her underwear.

“I see you do enjoy it. You’re soaking.”

Emily smirked down at her. “What can I say? Commanding women turn me on.”

“You are a switch.”

Emma wriggled out from under her, leaving her, surprised, and propped up on her hands and knees. She moved behind her and pulled down Emily’s underwear, baring her perfect ass.

“Fuck.” She slid two fingers straight into the deep wetness of it, and Emily stiffened. “Your nails.”

“I won’t hurt you, if you don’t flinch.”

“Oh, fuck.” Emily moved, pressing against her hand, even wetter at that. Emma added a third finger, stretching her, and started a slow easy rhythm. Emily whimpered.

Now for the experiment. She slid her free hand between her own legs, wetting her fingers, and then slid them over Emily’s asshole.

“Oh my god, what are you-“

“She said you’d like this, even if you didn’t know you’d like it.”

“No. There’s no way I will like that.” Then she gasped, and Emma pressed the pad of her finger into her anus. Her body shuddered. “God.”

“Was that a please stop I can’t stand it, ‘god’ or a I can’t believe I never tried this before, ‘god?’”

“Fuck me,” Emily hissed.

And Emma obeyed. Her fingers moved quick and rough, in and out of her cunt, and her other hand abandoned Emily’s ass, moving to catch her hip and keep her in place. Emma replaced it with her tongue.

In moments Emily was coming, but Emma wasn’t about to stop. Her arms gave out, and Emily’s face hit the pillow. Emma flipped her briskly, pulling a leg up over her shoulder, and kept fucking her roughly, now with four fingers.

“God, what wouldn’t I give to have a strap on right now. I would take you places you haven’t even imagined.”

“No one’s ever-“ was all Emily managed, before her body betrayed her, and she was coming again. Emma pulled out and slid her wet index finger into Emily’s ass. It was tight, but didn’t resist, and it entered smoothly, up to the first knuckle.

“Don’t-“ Emily whimpered, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Does it hurt?”

Emily shook her head.

“Do you hate it?”

Emily shook her head again.

“It’s too much. I can’t-“

And then Emma started to fuck her finger in and out, and Emily tipped her head back, squirming and clenching at the bedclothes, until she came.

“Nice,” Emma muttered to herself. She was always impressed by girls who could come from just anal. She crawled up to the head of the bed and prodded Emily’s shoulder. She didn’t respond. She reached out with her mind.

Emily had passed out.

“I think I won.”

* * *

Emily did not hook up. She did not have one-night stands. And she most definitely did not cheat when she was in a relationship. When she woke up, naked and thoroughly fucked in a room in Tony Stark’s mansion, she was sure that she had been possessed.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Help me zip up my dress?”

And there was the woman who had fucked her until she passed out. Her thighs were sticky as she pressed them together, and she managed to gain enough motor control in her fingers to work the tiny zipper.

“If you really feel that ashamed, I could make you forget it.”

Emily shook her head, weakly. “No. I deserve the shame. I so rarely have the good fortune to be in a relationship, that I can’t imagine myself blowing it like this.”

“She’s not a telepath, is she?”

“No, human.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You don’t tell her and you haven’t blown anything, darling. Well, except me.”

Emily laughed. “You made me pass out!”

“Well, I couldn’t let you win.” Emma leaned close as she fastened her bra for her, their lips nearly touching. “And you were damn close with your dirty dirty tongue.”

Emily stuck out said tongue. She licked up Emma’s lower lip and Emma parted her lips, engulfing her tongue with a kiss. Emily’s eyelids fluttered shut as she kissed back.

Emma broke the kiss and Emily sank to the bed.

“Are you all right?”

“I still… feel a little woozy.”

Emma placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up so she could look into her eyes and past them. She cooled the ethical struggle into a soft resignation and slid back out. “It’s just my irresistible pheromones. Sit there. I’ll dress you.”

“You’ll…?”

Emma glanced at her with an amused expression. “That turns you on?” She shook her head. “Now I know why my double is off her head over you. You just are an endless wealth of unexpected kinks, aren’t you?”

Emily flushed.

Emma located the missing pair of underwear bottoms. “I think… I’ll keep these. They wouldn’t be comfortable now anyways.”

“I’m-“

Emma spun and gave Emily a sharp look. “Don’t you dare be ashamed of it. Anyone, who has any appreciation for sex would be proud to own you.”

“Own me?”

“Well,” Emma smirked as she gestured for Emily to stand and step into the dress. She zipped it, slowly and leisurely, letting her hands brush over the other woman’s bare skin. “One wouldn’t want anyone else to have you.”

She carefully tidied up her hair and reapplied her make up.

“All right. I think you’re presentable. Less woozy now?”

“I must be developing an immunity to your irresistible pheromones.”

Emma laughed. “Oh, I doubt that.” She fished around in her purse and found a business card and a pen. She scrawled a number on the back. “Here.” She handed the card to Emily. “If you want to get bent over something and properly nailed, call. It’s my private number.”

Emily blinked. “Okay.” She took the card and tucked it away in her bodice.

Emma smiled and ran her thumb over her lower lip. “You are gorgeous. I hope your lover appreciates you.”

It did feel good to be appreciated. Emily rejoined her mother who gave her a pleased smile. “Have you been meeting people, dear?”

“Um… I suppose I have.” The card seemed to burn her skin, and she was very aware of her lack of underwear and the sticky remains of her arousal between her legs.

Emma went up to a man, over six feet, svelte and muscular, with red tinted glasses who greeted her with a kiss. Her stomach twisted. But there was a little flush of pride that came along with the discomfort. A woman like that, with a man like that, wanted me, thought I was worth pursuing.

Sins of pride were something she was so rarely guilty of that it was almost refreshing.

Sins of lust were something else entirely.

* * *

Part 3

Scott's Emma

2009-12-24T02:50:07Z

Title: Scott’s Emma (Part 1)

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: (My) Emma/(Marvel’s) Emma, Emma/Scott, Emma/Emily, Emily/JJ

Rating: NC-17

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Word Count: 1833

Prompt: 032. Anal Sex (Not till later. Wait for it.)

Apologies: Happy Christmas Eve! And what do good fic readers get for Christmas? Smut!

This came out of a weird set of random prompts I made myself. My Emma, who has wandered so far away from continuity, meets the Emma in continuity, and proceeds to mess up her life.

Edited for italics, because it is impossible for me to write Emma-Voice without them.

Emma wasn’t quite sure what had happened. The immediate past was foggy. But right now she was sitting in a room at the mansion, which was almost but not quite entirely alike to hers.

The main oddness was that she was already in it.

The woman lying on the bed reading something that looked mysteriously like a handwritten letter resembled her most shockingly. Their bodies, of which Emma could see quite enough since the short nightdress her double wore left little to the imagination, were identical, even down to the scars. Her hair was slightly shorter, with the blunt turn out that suggested it had been cut recently, and perhaps a shade darker.

The Emma on the bed lowered her letter and looked over at her desk. “Oh,” she said blandly. “It’s me.”

Emma frowned. “How do I know that you’re not an impostor?”

“Well,” the other Emma replied. “I assume that one of us must be an impostor. But as this is my room and aside from you, most things seem unchanged, it is not likely to be me.”

Emma nodded, accepting the logic. “I do seem to be out of place. I don’t quite recall what sent me here, but I’m certain it will be cleared up before long.”

Her double nodded. “Can you toss me a pen? I need to answer this note.”

Emma found one and obeyed. She was curious about who would hand write a letter in these days. “Who is it from?” she inquired.

“Emily,” her double said, as if it were obvious.

Emma frowned. “I… I don’t believe I know that person.”

Her double blinked and looked at her, a slightly shocked expression on her face. “What do you mean, you don’t know who Emily is?”

Emma stared at herself. “I meant what I said. I don’t believe I have an acquaintance of that name. And certainly not one who writes me letters.”

“Hmm,” the other Emma sat up. “She usually calls. But apparently there was nothing to do while she was on stakeout, and wrote instead.”

Stakeout? Emma didn’t inquire. It was rather irritating, though not surprising, that she was telepathically blank to herself. Similar DNA often had that effect. “And she’s…”

Her double gave her a rather confused look.

Somehow that was incredibly easy to read. “Your lover?” The slight squeak at the end was rather humiliating, but Emma didn’t like to be blindsided by things like this.

Her double shrugged. “On and off.” She folded the letter. “Currently on.”

That was almost worse. If she had said ‘on and off’ it would have meant ‘someone who I am serious enough about to apologize to, or to wait until she forgives me,’ which did not happen often. “Oh.”

“You’re not with anyone?”

“I have Scott.”

There was a moment of silence. Her other self looked horrified. “You’re fucking Scott? That’s repulsive.”

Was this some sort of alternate universe where she was a raging lesbian? Because that would be truly unnerving. But she clearly lived at the mansion, and knew Scott well enough to recognize his first name. She must have joined the X-men at some point. They couldn’t be that different. “Please. Don’t tell me you didn’t think about it.”

Her double considered this, making a face. “Well, I did wonder if I could fuck that stick out of his ass.”

Emma smirked. “Out… I haven’t managed. But it turns out he’s rather into pegging.”

The other Emma snorted. “I am not surprised.”

There was a certain twist to her shoulders and a little sneer that put Emma’s back up. Honestly, her double couldn’t think that she had it better, could she? She had Scott (with the mildly unnerving approval of his dead wife), the headmistress position, power, influence, dominance, and her double was writing letters to some woman who was so far off the map that Emma hadn’t even met her. “It’s probably better sex than you get. Aren’t you bored?”

Her double blinked, uncomprehendingly. “Bored? Of what?”

Emma had thought she had made that clear. It wasn’t as if she had no comprehension of what sex with women was like. You didn’t spend years in the Hellfire Club and come out naïve. But it had always seemed rather repetitive. And you had to make an effort, unless you had a slave. But you didn’t write letters to a slave. “Of… girl bits.”

The impostor started to smile. “Well, I can’t say that I am. You do realize that she’s a federal agent, correct?”

Emma nodded, though she hadn’t, but that explained the ‘stakeout’ aspect.

“Which means that everyone she has been with before has considered her butch.”

Emma nodded again, still suspicious.

“Which means that she had never been properly taken with a strap-on before I met her.”

“Oh.” Things were beginning to make sense. She did like to dominate. And someone who was a little tentative, a little virginal was always attractive. (Although, as an educator ‘of age’ was a key requirement here.)

“And the first time I even touched her ass…” her double’s eyes darkened, and Emma sat back slightly uncomfortable and rather aroused. “She is the most receptive, responsive, permissive bottom I have ever fucked.”

Emma swallowed hard.

“And sometimes…” Her double couldn’t keep the cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin off her face. Emma leaned in. “She can put me on my knees and make me beg, and then fucking brutalize me.”

“But you said… you said she’s a bottom.”

The other Emma shrugged. “Only when she likes me. When I piss her off she tops like Selene.”

Emma frowned. “You mean she’ll still fuck you when she’s angry?”

Her double looked confused. “Why wouldn’t she?”

That was a shock. It wasn’t as if Emma couldn’t seduce someone who was angry with her. In fact, it was often the easiest time, because they were already feeling aroused and passionate. But you couldn’t have hate sex and relationship sex with the same person.

“What… kind of relationship do you have?”

Her double looked blank. “There are kinds of relationships?”

That was just the stupid sort of answer she would have responded to a question she didn’t want to answer. “You’re her lover.”

“… yes?”

“Are you monogamous?”

Her double glared. “Are you?”

“You’re not answering the question.”

The other Emma pursed her lips and scowled. “Fine. I haven’t… wanted anyone else since I met her.”

“You… what?” Emma stared. The sentence just didn’t make any sense.

“I’m not saying I haven’t been attracted to anyone else! I’m not even saying I haven’t seduced anyone else, or fucked anyone else.” (That one sounded like a lie.) “But… I haven’t desired someone enough to pursue it just for curiosity’s sake. Why would I bother taking the risk of having mediocre sex when I could just go to Emily and have excellent sex?”

Emma gaped at her. “You’re… you’re committed.”

“I am not!”

“Then you’re in love, which is worse!”

The other Emma didn’t respond.

“You know you’re in love.”

“It’s… complicated. And it’s not… relevant, to the sex.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” Emma laughed, not particularly convincingly. “I’m in love with her, but all that means is I get upset when we fight, and I don’t freak out when she’s in my bed in the morning. But the sex is astonishingly consistent, whatever else is going on.”

“That's… that’s actually pretty incredible.” It was. It was also mildly nauseating. Emma acknowledged that she could feel a certain degree of affection for someone. But it was usually a calm crisp admiration or interest. She didn’t have squashy feelings. And there was no amount of regular mind-blowing sex that would spawn such horrors.

That this was not true for her double was incredibly unnerving.

Emma nodded. “You should try it. I do recommend… Emily Prentiss as a lifestyle choice.”

Emma (the real one) snorted.

“And let her eat you out. You don’t know how good it can get until you’ve had her.”

“I’m not a lesbian.”

Her double rolled her eyes. “Oh come on. You know as well as I that you have tendencies. Remember Astrid?”

“She was messing with my mind!”

“And your pussy.” The other Emma gave a lazy grin. “But not like Emily. Really, you need to hit that before you make any real decisions. Because she has this thing she can do with her tongue… you have no idea.”

Emma glanced away, unnerved by the look of satisfaction on her face. “What’s it like?”

The other Emma licked her lips. “Lets see if I can give you a demo. I don't’ have the agility, but I’ve been trying to learn some of the techniques.”

* * *

“Emma! Are you all right?”

Emma blinked at Henry, hovering over her in the med lab. Logan was in the next bed over and gave her a nod.

“How do you feel?”

Emma considered this. “I feel fine.” She frowned. “Should I be feeling ill?”

Henry scratched his head. “I really couldn’t say. You were brain dead, and then you weren’t. What do you remember?”

“I… I remember,” she paused, because she did remember and was rather disappointed at where it had cut off. “I saw myself. We… spoke.”

Scott was nowhere to be found. Finally he was located in his office.

“Oh, you’re all right.”

“No thanks to you.”

He hadn’t been very worried. Telepaths often did mysterious things like go brain dead at irregular intervals, and generally they came out of it, occasionally with a possessing demon or something else odd. Henry had pronounced her clear. But Scott had been worried. Emma had never seen him do paperwork for any other reason.

He was exactly the type of person she should hate: arrogance and self-righteousness covering up deep and completely unoriginal insecurity. He was like every man she had ever slept with. The only interesting part of him was that he was both terrified and attracted to being weak. He just couldn’t do it without being in control. Well… thinking he was in control. In the end, Emma was always the one in control.

Oh, and sometimes he was insane. That was always entertaining.

Maybe she’d see if she could convince him to role-play tonight. She desperately wanted to find out whether he would fall apart if he had to suck the professor’s cock.

She frowned to herself. That hallucination she had had was very odd. It was probably just wish fulfillment. Who wouldn’t want to be screwing a switch who liked anal and gave great head? She had had nightmares about squashy feelings before. (None of them had involved writing letters though.) It was just a weird mix.

The only thing that was truly strange was that it was so specific. Emily Prentiss… and that she remembered the name.

She checked her mail. “Oh, Tony’s having a party. Interested?”

Scott scowled. “Perhaps to see what he’s up to now.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Scott really didn’t know how to enjoy himself.

* * *

Part 2

City on the River 8

2009-12-20T16:03:32Z

Title: City on the River 8/?
Author: Alsike
Fandom: Criminal Minds/X-Men Pairing: Emily Prentiss... eventually Emma Frost
Rating: PG-13 Summary: When one person travels into an alternate universe a thousand others are created. What if Didi showed up without a time slip on Emily's doorstep, in a world without mutants? What would a twenty-five year old Emily do?

Apologies: Small cameo by a character from Charmed. O.o

No italics because LJ hates me.

Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

Chapter 5
Chapter 6: Emma's POV

The phone call should have been a warning, but it was Saturday, and still warm for fall, and Didi wanted a picnic. So they had a picnic.

It was the unremitting conventionality of it that had Emily’s stomach tied up in knots, well that and Emma in blue jeans and her faded old Columbia sweatshirt. (It was entirely obvious that this sweatshirt, no matter how ratty or faded it became, was not ever going to be thrown away. It had been washed, and it had become actually a ubiquitous fixture in the house. If Emma was not wearing it, it was lying over the back of the couch or hanging off a chair in the kitchen. Emily had worn it once, without thinking, on a shivery-cold early morning. It had been at hand and she put it on and had gone about making breakfast. And then Emma had come downstairs and just looked at her. She had paled at the ferocity of it and quickly wriggled out of the sweatshirt and handed it over. Emma had folded it carefully and taken it upstairs, giving her a sharp glare as she left.)

Didi had been very strict about tea pouring protocol and about sitting, mainly making Emily do most of the work and requiring Emma to provide appropriate conversational topics, and every few minutes, they would look over at each other and laugh silently about what they were doing for this slave driver of a child. It felt like telepathy. And even though it really wasn’t that warm (almost November) Emily couldn’t help tugging at her collar as her face seemed to be radiating heat.

After lunch Didi announced that it was her naptime and Emma took her in. Emily had a little work to do and lay out on the blanket, marking up her poor translations of the section of the Arabic-language newspaper she had been assigned. She thought the article was probably an amateur poetry contest and was vaguely wondering why her boss needed it translated when Emma came back out and dropped on the blanket next to her. She had a book, and they lay there quietly, the slight breeze sending an occasional leaf fluttering over them.

Emma refilled her teacup from the thermos and Emily chuckled. “I thought it was inappropriate for you to have to fill your own glass.”

“I think she may have some status issues that need clearing up.”

“Well, I suppose I did take your name there. I’m… not sure what that means, exactly.”

Emma laughed at her.

A clicking sound intruded on the conversation, and made them glance up. There was a woman coming down the sidewalk, a young woman in a crisp suit and high heels, and carrying a briefcase, pausing at every house and checking the number. Emily blinked.

“What do you think… Avon lady, or…” She suddenly felt cold, “or social worker. Shit.”

Emma dropped her book and quickly got to her feet. She started for the house.

“Hey!” Emily yelped. “You’re abandoning me?”

She didn’t even glance back as the door slammed behind her.

“Hello. I’m Miss Matthews. Are you…” She looked at her notebook. “Emily Prentiss?”

Emily made a face. “Yes, that’s me.”

“And is Deirdre still with you?”

“She’s having her nap.” Emily looked around herself for something innocent. “We had a picnic today.”

“So… everything’s fine?” Miss Matthews asked suspiciously.

Emily smiled as best she could. “Yeah. She’s, uh, been going to pre-school, and… drawing lots of pictures.” That sounded best, better than ‘making a mess of my things’ or ‘dictating my free time.’ She wasn’t going to mention that she actually had clothes now either. That would probably not go over well.

“And this incident where you called the police and tried to have her taken to a home, that was… an anomaly?”

Emily winced. There really wasn’t any way she could get out of this looking sane, was there?

“Hello,” Emma strode up. Emily blinked at the sight. She had changed out of her jeans and sweatshirt, and was dressed in a knee-length navy blue skirt, a conservative blouse and low black pumps. At first Emily didn’t recognize the clothes, and then remembered that they had been stuffed in the boxes they had moved out of Didi’s room. She hadn’t worn them since she stopped working at the UN.

“I’m Emma Frost.” She shook Miss Matthew’s hand before it was even offered.

“You… are?”

Even Miss Matthews was slightly put off by the business formal attitude.

“I’m Emily’s sister-in-law.” She placed her hand on Emily’s shoulder with exaggerated sensitivity. “It’s been a very rough time for us, these past few months.”

“It… has?”

Emma shook her head, looking disturbed. “It’s against our pride, sharing family troubles with strangers. But I know you only have Deirdre’s very best interests at heart.”

“Of course.” Miss Matthews was looking more and more curious. Emily was also quite curious to know what bullshit Emma was going to feed the caseworker.

“It was… a tragedy.” Emma looked away, bringing her hand to her face. “My dear brother, Deirdre’s father, passed away suddenly.”

“Oh!” Miss Matthews looked honestly shocked and sympathetic.

“It was completely unexpected, and back at home, in Massachusetts, we were in such shock that we entirely ignored the plight of his wife and daughter. The grief must have been overwhelming, leaving my dear sister-in-law with no strength to care for her traumatized and abandoned child.” Emma looked intently into Miss Matthews’ eyes. “Calling the police was a cry for help.”

“I completely-“

“When I heard, I immediately leapt to assist. My departed brother’s child is as dear to me as any of mine own would be.”

Ms. Matthews looked stunned.

Emma smiled tightly. “So, as you can see, everything is under control.”

After a quick glance around, ‘for her report,’ and carefully guided to the display of crayon drawings, the artfully opened (and entirely unused) cookbooks on the counter, and directed to notice the tragically bare mantelpiece, all the pictures having been put away until ‘dear Emily could bear to look upon the face of her beloved husband once more,’ Ms. Matthews left.

Emma expelled a huge breath and flopped into a chair. “God. I thought she would never leave.”

Emily grinned at her. “Have you ever thought of a career in theatre?”

“Fuck off.” Emma chuckled. “I’m just good at lying. God knows I’ve had the practice.”

“Sexy outfit,” Emily commented as Emma got up to make more tea. Emma glanced back with a mock glare.

“What did I tell you about hitting on me?”

“You said I was allowed to look. Surely I can appreciate verbally as well, can’t I?”

* * *

It was a Thursday night and Emma was pulling on her coat, getting ready to go. Emily watched her for a moment, confused and then opened her mouth.

“What… what are you doing?”

Emma blinked. “Oh, Benji asked me to go to this… uh, exhibit with him. It’s on communications technology or something equally boring. You’ll be home, right?”

“Are you… dating Benji?” Emily made an odd expression. It felt impertinent to ask, but she couldn’t really believe that someone like Emma would date someone like Benji. If it were true, the world was just not a rational place.

Emma blinked. “What? No. He thinks I’m with you.”

“… Why does he think that?”

“I…” Emma looked shifty. “Implied it. Heavily.”

“… Why did you do that!?”

Emma grinned. “I like the way his face turns red when he’s fantasizing about us having sex.”

Emily groaned.

“Actually, we’re… ‘buds,’” she said with an odd tone that seemed to be imitating Benji imitating someone cool. “I’ve never had a ‘bud’ before, it’s sort of an intriguing experience.” She frowned. “I’m not sure if Benji’s ever had a ‘bud’ before either.”

Emily, rather confused by this, absently reached out and wound Emma’s scarf properly around her neck. Emma stiffened, jerking back, and Emily dropped it quickly.

“Sorry.”

Emma made an odd expression that was almost apologetic, and she ducked out the door. Emily let her go, but she couldn’t focus. She kept on trying to find an innocent way to ask the question that had come immediately to mind. “Do you ever imagine us having sex?”

A little quieter and farther down was the follow up. “Is it a nightmare?”

* * *

randomness

2009-12-19T03:39:42Z

FInished my last final today, with rather excellent Mandarin tones and a nice voiceless palatal fricative! (Don't ask about the written, my hand is all cramped up still) And now it is vacation! (i.e. finish grad school app time).

So I need books to read. I haven't read anything that made me want to jump up and hit some orcs in a while. Any recs of good swashbuckling fare? Or steampunk?

Fake Empire 8

2009-12-18T14:33:06Z

Title: Fake Empire 8 (JJ goes off the deep end)
Author: Alsike
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss, other Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or Criminal Minds. I owe wizened_cynic for the concept of quantum babies. She does it much better than me. Title stolen from the song by The National.
Apologies: LJ sux. Seriously, this would have been up last night, but no. First the rich text stops working like a month ago, so I learn html, and now the html editor has stopped working. soo, firefox it is. And lo, firefox does not help. FU LJ.
Fake Empire 1 (Queen Emma)
Fake Empire 2 (JJ's Part)
Fake Empire 3 (Emily's Part)
Fake Empire 4 (The Mansion)
Fake Empire 5 (Kyougen)
Fake Empire 6 (Morning)

Fake Emipire 7 (Mostly Emma's)

I never know if I'm hitting the right notes with this one. Feedback would be awesome. I'm trying to get everything set up for the ... Christmas Spectacular Episode... so you might be getting more wildly disjointed FE than you can handle. Hope that's alright.

X-Jet Air was so much better than commercial air, and in fact even better than BAU air, because Emily could let other people take the responsibility of looking out for Didi. And even if she fell out of the plane, Kurt could be trusted to catch her and bring her back. Emily leaned back in her seat, staring at the ceiling of the plane.

A woman with dark hair and odd glasses sat next to her. Ororo was up in the front, assisting with the flying. The strange woman was watching Emily with an oddly blank expression that was making her uncomfortable, but she would have been more uncomfortable telling her to stop, so she did her best to ignore it.

The woman made a small noise, almost a sigh of resignation, and sat back, seemingly loosing interest in her.

“Well?” She word shot out of Emily’s lips without her thinking about it, and she almost flushed with embarrassment as the woman raised an inquiring eyebrow. “You must have decided something. You want to tell me what?”

“It was merely that it was… typical of Emma.”

“What is typical of Emma?”

“To claim to be a hedonist, and then do what she ought rather than what she wants to do.”

Emily eyed her carefully.

“It was the same in the club. Only what she ought was different.”

The woman got up and walked towards the front of the plane. The way she moved was the clear clue: Hellfire.

*    *    *

It was late when they got in, and Emily got a cab rather than let Ororo fly them to their doorstep. Didi would never go to sleep after flying, and she didn’t need to be on balcony watch all night.

Deirdre fell asleep with her head in her lap in the taxi, and Emily threaded her fingers through her hair. The reality of it all was settling down on her. Nothing had really changed from the time they had left. She still had to do this on her own.

Didi was a heavy weight clinging to her neck as she hiked up the five flights of stairs. She shuffled her around, trying to find her keys, and Didi whined and started to cry.

“Just let me get in.”

“I want to sleep!”

Emily put her down to get the keys out of her bag and Didi started hitting her legs.

“Cut it out!”

“Pick me up!”

“I need to unlock the door! Then you can sleep in bed!”

Didi started to wail. Emily grit her teeth and ignored it, finally locating the keys, and desperately hoping that her neighbors weren’t calling the supervisor. The door opened onto a dark apartment. It was just… too much.

“Go in.”

“Carry me!”

“Go in!” Emily yelled. She couldn’t do this now. She couldn’t pretend to care anymore.

Deirdre looked horrified. She had stopped making noise, but tears were still running down her face. “You…” It was half confused, and half aghast. And Emily crumbled.

It didn’t have anything to do with her. Her anger and frustration were completely unrelated to this kid. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was only tired and unhappy exactly like Emily was. “I’m… I’m sorry.” She reached out to pick her up, but Didi avoided her arms and marched into the apartment under her own steam. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did.

“Iz do it myself.”

She got undressed herself and stood, not looking at Emily, with one hand out, waiting for her pajamas. Emily dug in the suitcase until she found them.

“You sure you don’t want help.”

“Iz fine.”

She climbed into her clock pajamas without help.

“Teeth?”

Didi just gave her a dirty look and waited for a lift into bed. “Story.”

“Wait for me to get dressed.”

Deirdre heaved a small put-upon sigh and turned her head away in the pillow. Emily got into her own pajamas (which were still clean and folded from when she had put them in the suitcase) and went to brush her teeth. When she got back, Didi was asleep, and she crawled gingerly in, doing her best not to wake her.

Her cellphone was sitting on the bedside table and she stared at it for a long time.

She does what she ought rather than what she wants to do.

Emily closed her eyes. If she cried on the phone would it be enough to make it something Emma ought to do? But she wouldn’t. She had too much pride for that. And she didn’t want her here because Emily needed her. They were both martyrs, and she wasn’t going to make Emma feel that being with her was a sacrifice she needed to make.

She didn’t fall asleep for a long time, listening to Didi breathe, and wondering if JJ would just be able to know that she hadn’t made her brush her teeth, but she didn’t touch the phone. She didn’t even look at the phone. (She wanted to call her, but she couldn’t trust herself to be able to lie.)

*    *    *

It was the doorbell that woke them up that morning. A few bangs on the door followed. “Emily! Ororo said you had gone home!”

It was JJ.

“Shit!” Emily sat up, nearly knocking Didi out of bed. The child let out a yelp. “Hurry, you need to brush your teeth before JJ catches us!”

Didi’s eyes widened and she hurriedly made the jump from the edge of the bed to the floor. “Do the toothpaste.”

Emily fixed her toothbrush before answering the door where it sounded like JJ had decided to just lean on the bell.

“Hi.”

“Hi!” JJ bounced in. “Oh my god! This is going to be so much fun!”

Emily stared at JJ in horror. Was she possessed? “What do you mean by fun?”

“You have a kid! Most of Henry’s friends parents are nice and all, but when they ask you what you do and you say, ‘I profile serial killers’ they’re usually a bit put off.”

“I can see that.”

“But this is going to be perfect!”

“Oh god.” Emily had a sudden image of what might be going on in JJ’s head, and it was very very ugly (and suburban). “I don’t think… I’m going to be the type of parent that you want me to be.”

JJ just smiled, but her eyes were narrowed in a dangerous way. “Of course you will, with a little training.”

This was incredibly threatening.

JJ gave her a sharp look. “Are you hungover again?”

“No! We just got in late.”

“Good.” She stalked into Emily’s kitchen and started unloading bottles from the wine rack.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to be babysitting these for a little while.” She flashed a smile over her shoulder. “Just until you get more used to the idea.”

“You’re… what?” Emily wasn’t feeling entirely coherent yet. Didi came out of the bathroom dribbling foam.

“Lifts!”

Emily froze not sure which disaster she needed to deal with first. Finally she chose the soap and hurried to give Didi a lift so she could rinse her mouth. When she made it out JJ had located a cardboard box and was loading up the bottles. Emily flinched at every clink.

“Do you know how expensive some of those are!”

“Don’t worry!” JJ gave her that innocent smile which was incredibly not comforting. “You’ll get them back.” The smile changed into a sly grin. “Well, those that Will and I haven’t finished already.”

Emily gaped.

“You didn’t have nine months of no alcohol and no coffee.” JJ stuck her finger out at her. “You deserve some suffering.”

“What!”

*    *    *

“All right, it’s cute and all that you sleep in the same bed, but I think you need to figure out what’s going to be her room.”

JJ was going through the bags of clothing that Emma had bought Didi. Every once in a while she would squeal and pull Didi over to make her stand there while JJ held it in front of her to try and see how it would look.

“Her room?”

JJ pulled something red and slinky out of the bag and raised her eyebrows at Emily. “I think this is yours.” She tossed it and it hit Emily in the face.

Emily pulled it off and looked at it. “I didn’t-“ Then she figured out what it was and turned red.

JJ removed two jackets and something that she had to examine closely before she realized that it was a pair of leather pants. She gave Emily a look. “Were you involved in picking this stuff out?”

“I just tried on whatever she threw at me. It…” she waved her hands, “was less frustrating than arguing.”

JJ huffed air out her nose, and started a separate pile for Emily’s stuff. “So are you together or just…” her eyes slid over to Didi, coloring on the floor, and then back. “You know.”

Emily winced. “Is there a difference?”

“With you?” JJ rolled her eyes. “You just bend over and let her do whatever she wants to you.”

Emily shifted awkwardly. At least they could talk about this now. The last time they had had a similar conversation she hadn’t been able to sit down comfortably and JJ, when she finally figured it out, had flipped out and left. “Well, you never know how good it’s going to be until you bend over and let it happen.”

JJ snorted. “All right.” She stood up. “It’s time for shopping.”

“What?” Emily gestured futilely at the huge pile of clothes.

“For furniture. And then we call Will and get him to move stuff.”

*    *    *

JJ seemed to have forgotten to mention that moving furniture required two people, so Emily and Will dragged things around while she sat on the couch on her cell phone with Didi, who was having a nap.

Will had to get back to work and jogged down to his car as soon as they had finished.

“All right. I think I can get her into Henry’s preschool for next week, if she’s had all her shots. They didn’t happen to include immunization records when they dropped her off, did they.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “I don’t think even a birth certificate would have been accepted since it might have said something like ‘Father: grand duchess Emma Frost and Mother: slave number forty-two.”

JJ froze. “Slave?”

Emily glanced at her and blinked once. She had gotten so used to the idea that she had forgotten it might come as a shock. “Yeah… that was one of the things they found out about where she came from. When you said ‘mutant supremacist,’ you were right.”

JJ stiffened. “She forced you?”

Emily stared at her blankly. “Um, what?”

JJ jumped up from the couch and stalked towards her. “She forced you to carry her child?”

“I don’t think it was like that…”

JJ kept coming forward and Emily found herself backed against the wall. “You know that she’s like that, that she doesn’t have any respect for anyone else, and-”

“We were married?” Emily squeaked.

JJ stopped. “You were what?” She covered her mouth and stepped back. “No, don’t say it. I heard you.”

Emily scratched her head. “Are you going to puke?”

She swallowed. “No. I… I just am having a hard time trying to picture a situation with you two married with a baby and its…”

“Making you want to throw up.” Emily chuckled. “I would be incredibly offended if it weren’t so difficult to imagine myself.”

*    *    *

City on the River

2009-12-14T04:34:13Z

Title: City on the River 7/?
Author: Alsike
Fandom: Criminal Minds/X-Men
Pairing: Emily Prentiss... eventually Emma Frost
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When one person travels into an alternate universe a thousand others are created. What if Didi showed up without a time slip on Emily's doorstep, in a world without mutants? What would a twenty-five year old Emily do?

Apologies: "I didn't actually reread this after writing it. So if there's anything glaring, let me know, and I'll fix it tomorrow." Wow, exactly what I needed to say this time... besides "Syntax makes me cry" because it does. And I promised I would post this, so I did, though it means tomorrow I need to finish my take home quiz. (And more syntax)

Prologue
Chapter 1

Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The basic truth was, Emma was sure, that this woman had to be an idiot. What other explanation could there be for someone to believe this absolute hoax, go and pick up a woman from a strip club, and invite her to live in her house and look after her kid? Either an idiot or a pervert.

She had waited it out, waited, watched, and tested her limits, until that slight flinch and widening of the eyes was as familiar to her as any tic of her own. She was passing the tests and idiot was winning out over pervert.

Emma had done her rounds, not shied away from going through boxes and helping her move because it gave her an opportunity to check her story. She had been looking for patterns, for signs that this woman fit the role. But if Emily was anything, she was someone who never quite fit a role exactly. The evidence backed it up, just evidence of someone’s difficult, not quite normal life.

The boxes had been unnerving in their own right: school uniforms, books and papers, awards tucked away and forgotten. She wondered if her own boxes were stuffed somewhere in her father’s house. It seemed that it would almost be better if he had burned them, if he had performed a ceremony of his hatred of her, better than him just forgetting.

There was also quite a collection of clothes: dresses, ball-gowns even, folded haphazardly, unmothballed, pumps and pencil skirts. Emma had sat back on her heels, rather surprised at this assemblage. It had made her tense and afraid for a moment, but if this woman were that good an actress, why would she hide her other roles in plain sight? Emily had caught her looking, scanning the dark jeans and long sleeved shirts with lace-up men’s shoes, and flushed.

“My last job. They described the dress code as ‘gender-appropriate business formal.’ I was so glad to leave there.”

“I can tell.” But Emma didn’t look away, wondering how the skirt would cling to her legs, whether the heels would increase or decrease her awkward clumsiness. Probably increase. Emily turned partly away, still watching her with that slightly amazed and incredulous expression. Emma jerked her gaze away. She couldn’t stand that look. It always felt like Emily was reading her mind.

Deirdre was the only thing that was normal here. It was absurd, that this place, this real house with hot showers and decent insulation and (eventually) food in a usable kitchen, felt so unreal, and this impossible child, with her eyes and Emily’s smile, was the one thing that could bring her back down to earth. But whatever she was, she was a child, and that was something that was predictable in its randomness and full of expected insanity.

Emily couldn’t handle her. That was the first thing that made her begin to believe her absurd story. She treated Deirdre as if she were some sort of rare exotic monster. It was right to protect her, but dangerous to get too close. And she always just reacted to Deirdre, there wasn’t any of the hesitation and penetrating gazes that suggested careful analysis that there were when she spoke to Emma.

Still, sometimes it felt like a trap. Didi’s immediate acceptance of her, the way she could make Emma feel as if she belonged, as if there truly was something that was hers in this world, was dangerous. And she wasn’t quite ready to give in.

* * *

Emily was a prober. She tried to control it, but Emma watched the questions form on her face and then watched her quickly close her mouth. Eventually she was going to ask, and Emma thought it was better to head that off before she felt like she had a right to an answer.

Emma didn’t answer the phone. It didn’t have anything to do with her, and she would let it go to the answering machine rather than pick it up. Emily glared at her for it a few times, particularly this time, when she was trying to carry four things in from the car at once and Didi was running around her feet. Emma was on the couch, the phone six inches away.

But then the answering machine picked up. “Emily, this is your mother.”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on her face as she lunged for the phone.

“I have had a very mysterious phone call from a social worker about you. Does this have anything to do with that depressive period you’ve been experiencing for the last six months? Because I told you to see a therapist. I do recommend not throwing small children in the river as a mood lifter, although I am aware that it often seems quite efficacious at the time. The results, I am told, are rather a downer.”

Emily spent an hour on the phone running interference. She used the ignorance defense as to where on earth she would have gotten a small child to throw in the river, and in all respects lied her face off.

She wasn’t particularly good at it, and her increasingly frantic denials suggested that her mother didn’t find her particularly opaque either. Finally she managed to hang up and groaned, dropping into the chair.

“God, parents.”

Emma snorted, but she tensed as she felt Emily’s eyes wander over and scan her, carefully. She saw her start to open her mouth.

“I don’t like to talk about my parents,” Emma said sharply, cutting her off.

Emily frowned, annoyed by the brush off. She made an expression that was almost a sneer. “Hazel and Winston Frost, Snow Valley, Massachusetts?” she inquired, her tone snappish, with the irritating lilt of ‘I know something you didn’t tell me.’

Emma glared at her.

“Wealthy?”

Emma stood up. “My dad was an abusive asshole and my mom was a drug addict. They could have been as rich as Croesus, but my childhood was still shit.” She left the room. She thought Emily would think twice about probing again. Don’t ask, she had said, because you won’t like the answers.

* * *

It was awful to be alone in someone else’s house, but Didi had her first day of school today and Emily was at work. Emma lay on Emily’s couch listening to Emily’s depressing music on Emily’s stereo, and just wanted to run.

There was a knock on the door. Benji was standing outside smiling.

“Hi, Emily called and said you might be bored. Want to go to lunch?”

It was beginning to be unnerving, Emily’s habit of predicting what she wanted or what she might need. The making her tea before she left for work was confusing enough, but this was slightly excessive.

“Did she give you money for it too?”

Benji laughed. “Actually she said that I should make you pay because it would make you feel like more of an adult.”

Emma cringed. “Does she always do things like this? I’m starting to feel like a lab animal running mazes.”

Benji scratched behind his ear. “I don’t know. I think she’s just worried that you’ll leave.”

Emma rolled her eyes and found the cash that Emily had left behind. It was starting to pile up even though Emma had finally gotten it through to her that even small children did not spend a hundred dollars a day. (Not that they wouldn’t, with the opportunity, but she wasn’t about to give Deirdre free rein or they would soon own a small island nation.)

“Fine.” She waved the stack of bills (it gave her an odd flashback and she grimaced). “I’m paying. What’s your favorite restaurant? No limit. Lets burn a hole in her wallet.” She considered this for a moment. “And no pancakes. If I even smell another pancake I’m going to vomit.”

Benji showed her a very cute upscale sushi restaurant near the river. It was in a lonely brownstone with classical furnishings and fish-oriented authentic feeling food, not stripped down to its essential ‘ethnicness,’ but actually treated like cuisine: miso soup with shellfish, and grilled mackerel on proper ceramic dishes. It felt like… somewhere she would have gone before.

(Except before she would have been spending her daddy’s money. Emily’s wasn't the same. There was an unfamiliar sick feeling in her stomach that suspiciously resembled guilt.)

Benji was talking a mile a minute about something that might have been ‘Battleship Galaxy’ (or might not. Emma wasn’t particularly interested.) while she was busy with her rather horrible nostalgia, and finally she cut him off.

“You’re a police officer, aren’t you? Why aren’t you at work?”

Emily had explained the circumstances of their meeting, and Emma, who had never been particularly respectful of law enforcement to begin with (growing up in a household where you father can buy off the cops, and then moving into a very borderline as to its legality occupation wherein a large proportion of your customers are members of the law enforcement services do not encourage such respect), after realizing that even people who maintained control over their lesser urges (greed, lust, etc) still didn’t particularly care about venal illegality when off duty was now even less so. But it was still rather odd that Benji seemed so unfazed by her past.

Benji flushed, clearly embarrassed. The answer seemed to not include “I’m on the night shift.” “Well, you see, in my family, all of the men and a lot of the women are cops. And I, well, I wanted to be an electrical engineer, or a computer scientist. But I needed a job to save up some money for graduate school.”

“So you became a cop.” Emma finished, bored.

“Let no one say that nepotism is dead.” Benji made a face. “But I’m not any good at it. So my uncle keeps me doing paperwork the whole time. Still, it means I can make my own hours.”

“What made them think you weren’t any good at it?”

Benji flushed darker. “I can’t… really tell people ‘no’.”

Emma snorted. “I can see that.”

“But it’s good!”

She blinked at his turnaround in attitude.

“If I weren’t a cop, I would never have been sent to make sure Emily didn’t throw Didi in the river, and I wouldn’t have fallen asleep outside her house, and I wouldn’t have met any of you! And it’s… kind of nice to have non-cop… friends.”

Friends? Emma’s eyebrows shot up. Benji turned pale.

“I mean, uh, acquaintances, not… not friends if you don’t-“

“It’s fine.” Emma cut off his panic. It was irritating her. “But Emily’s a fed. Isn’t that-“ (It was still hard to say her name like they knew each other, like she trusted her. But it would be strange to say ‘her’ like she did in her head, with all the implications of ‘that woman, my benefactor, whom I hate for being so pathetic as to help me.’)

“Oh no!” Benji grinned. “If you grow up in a family of cops you with never make the mistake that the two are anything alike.”

“I see.”

“And it’s such…” he smiled vaguely at nothing, “such an astonishing story. It feels like destiny. Does it…” he eyed her nervously. “Does it feel like that to you?”

“Destiny?” Emma sat back, rather blindsided by the assumption. A lot of things had felt like destiny, her father throwing her out, her brother’s death. This didn’t feel like destiny, like inevitability. It felt like a miracle, which made it so much more terrifying, and why she would not take it at face value, no matter how charmingly it proclaimed its innocence. “It feels like someone didn’t think that their doubles could have their own lives,” she remarked sarcastically.

Benji grinned. “Or that only good things could happen of bringing you together.”

Emma blinked. He thought… “Good things?” she asked wryly. Perhaps she made it more suggestive than he had intended.

His cheeks turned red. That really made her smile. A month ago she would never have even considered the possibility of being surrounded by people who blushed at the mere implication of sex.

She chuckled. “Oh yes, very good things.”

* * *

To Move Closer Next to You

2009-12-13T02:56:55Z

I’ve just been in a mixing mood, and smut requires a good soundtrack. (Okay, ‘good’ is probably not the right description of anything including Wham! and the Jonas Brothers, but neither is it a description of most porn soundtracks. I’m not departing that far from the genre.)

To Move Closer Next To You
– A Bicker Ficmix

Moan – Cute Is What We Aim For
You have a dangerous face and illegal tastes
And that strap is falling on that shoulder blade
Be patient
Behave
You trained these lips when they were champs
And now they're itchin' for a comeback

Infected Girls – Electric Six
It's whippin' me, it's whippin' you
Turnin' black, turnin' blue, hell no
Now I'm just a statue in the garden
Where your evil flowers grow
Calling unprotected girls
Infected girls - do it better

Because It's Not Love (But It's Still a Feeling) – The Pipettes
I don't want to hold your hand
I don't want to go walking in the sand every day
So won't you come out to play
And I don't care what people say
I don't care what your friends will think anyhow
'cos you've got me here right now.

Fallin’ For You – Colbie Caillat
I’m trying not to tell you
But I want to
I’m scared of what you’ll say
So I’m hiding what I’m feeling
But I’m tired of
Holding this inside my head

Lips Like Morphine – Kill Hannah
I want a girl with lips like morphine,
Knock me out every time they touch me.
I wanna feel a kiss just crush me,
And break me down.

Wake Me Up Before You Go Go – Wham!
Cuddle up, baby, move in tight
We'll go dancing tomorrow night
It's cold out there, but it's warm in bed
They can dance, we'll stay home instead

Bonus Track
Burnin’ Up – The Jonas Brothers
C'mon girl, I fell so fast
Can't hold myself back
High heels, red dress
All by yourself, gotta catch my breath
I'm slippin’ into the lava
And I'm tryin’a keep from goin' under
Baby, who turned the temperature hotter?
'Cause I'm burnin' up, burnin' up for you baby

Please comment if you're snagging.

Zip at Mediafire

Bicker 4

2009-12-11T16:21:10Z

Title: Bicker pt 4

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: NC-17 (indeed)

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Word Count: 2450

Prompt: 044. Masturbation

Apologies: And more of the Princeton Eating Club AU! (Or in this case, Library fetish installment.) If you don't know what Eating Clubs are, think Hellfire Club for college students. Bicker is the system for picking new members to let into the club.

I have this one outlined. It is smut, but it makes me happy.

Just a little bit more, just a little harder. Emma ground her hips against her hand, pressing her lips tightly together and sealing them against the pillow. She was so close-

“What do you think you’re doing?”

There was a thump as a second body joined hers on the futon. Emma froze.

Emily pushed the covers off of her and tugged her hands out from under her. “I believe I told you that this was not allowed.”

Emma tried to jerk her hands out of her grip. She was hot and frustrated and incredibly irritated. “This is shit!”

Emily pushed her body over her and pinned her wrists to the pillow above her head. “Those are the rules.”

Emma struggled against her grip, trying desperately to not let the tears come into her eyes. “I can’t sleep!” It came out rough and almost begging, in just the way she hadn’t wanted it to. But she had tried so hard and had gotten so close. And Emily’s body was pressed up against hers like a cruel joke.

“You-“ she looked surprised, and it was worse than an insult. “You can’t?”

Her grip on Emma’s wrists loosened just enough and Emma jerked, hooking her leg around Emily and shoving her down, switching their positions. But she was not in the mood to tease. She kissed her, roughly and sloppily, and then sank her teeth into her lower lip deeply enough to make her cry out. She knew she was grinding like a dog against Emily’s leg, but she really didn’t care, and she let go of her wrists. It was probably a mistake, but she wanted, so badly, to get her hands on her breasts.

She only had a moment to enjoy it, before her head was spinning from a sharp blow, and then she was face down on the mattress with a knee in her back and something cold and metal clicking around her wrists.

“You cuffed me?” she shrieked, but it was muffled by the mattress.

“No one is allowed to just take what they want from me,” Emily hissed. “Not anymore.”

“Your girlfriend really fucked you up, didn’t she?” Emma retorted, still struggling. Another strike clipped the back of her head. Then Emily was off her and jerking her up by the cuffs, forcing her to her feet and manhandling her towards a corner. She shoved her into it, until her face pressed against the cold plaster.

“Don’t talk about something you don’t understand. And explain. You can’t sleep?”

This was humiliating, not that the situation would be much less humiliating if she hadn’t asked that question. Emma hated being rejected. She said nothing, staring straight at the wall.

“Fine.” Emily sighed and let her go. She heard the springs of the bed twang as she sat down. “Stay there all night if you want to.”

Emma slumped against the wall. “I hate you.”

“Yeah? Don’t care.”

There was the sound of covers rumpling. Was Emily going back to bed?

“You’re going to just leave me here?”

“Well, I was going to just make you sleep with cuffs on. But since you tried to take advantage you can stay in the corner.”

“You were the one who got into my bed.”

Emily coughed politely. “Whose futon is it?”

“Mine!”

“You don’t seem to be using it to sleep in.”

“I was going to, until you interfered.”

Emily chuckled. “Are you really saying that you have to get off every night, or you can’t sleep?”

Emma was silent.

“… really?”

“Fuck you.”

“You tried that. No.”

“This isn’t fair. You said it wouldn’t interfere with my mental health, and not getting enough sleep is considered a torture technique.”

“Yeah, waking people up or playing loud music is torture. But not letting someone masturbate?”

“You obviously don’t understand what it’s like to have an addictive personality!”

“I also don’t seem to enjoy yelling at the wall.”

“I don’t want to look at you!”

Emily was laughing at her. This was pathetic.

“You know, I think I underestimated your potential for sadism.”

“I think the point was for me to teach you self-control.”

“I just wanted to go to sleep!” Emma banged her forehead against the wall. “And your fucking snoring wasn’t helping!”

Emily just flicked the back of her head. “I think this means we are going to have to institute some new rules.”

Emma felt the tears leaking out and running down her face. She didn’t care. There was no way this could get worse.

Then she felt hands on the waistband of her pajama bottoms, easing them down. “Don’t. I don’t want you to touch me.”

She didn’t move away though, just stayed leaning against the wall as her pajamas and underwear were lowered to her knees.

“I’m not giving you a pity fuck,” Emily murmured, laughter still in her voice. “And you’re going to be sleeping in cuffs for a long time after this. But I will give you one opportunity to get off every night before bed. You just don’t get to choose the means.”

A knot tightened in Emma’s lower stomach. “I- I don’t want-“

“Yes you do,” Emily murmured. She nipped at her ass.

“Why,” it almost came out as a sob, “why do you get to say I was taking advantage, but it doesn’t apply when you are?”

She felt Emily pull away from her. “Look,” she sighed. “I’m not an insane sadistic bitch. If you trust me I’m not going to force you into something you’re completely uncomfortable with.”

“You haven’t been really convincing about that.”

“Maybe I was just surprised to find a hard limit so soon, especially for someone with a reputation like yours.”

“Just because all of the rumors about you were true, it doesn’t mean it’s the same for me.”

“So you didn’t let a professor bareback you in his office?”

‘No! That’s disgusting!”

“And you didn’t spend an hour in a boy’s bathroom, sucking off whoever came in?”

“Do you really think I would set foot in a boy’s bathroom? Have you smelled them?”

Emily laughed.

“And you didn’t take a boy up to the top of the Chapel bell tower and fuck him there?”

“Well, that one’s true.” Emma grinned, still facing the wall. “It was two boys, during the Episcopalian service.”

Emily laughed. “I knew you had to get the reputation from somewhere.”

“I was so drunk.”

She felt her pajamas being pulled back up and Emily’s fingers closed around hers. She tugged her away from the wall and towards her bed.

“What- what are you doing?”

Emily gave her a wry smile and pushed her into her bed. “I think we need to talk before we get any more tangled up in this.”

Emma did her best to crawl in without the use of her hands. Emily slid in next to her and organized the blankets. It was dark and quiet, but finally Emily spoke.

“There’s a problem with this, and mainly it’s that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m trying to copy some of the things that Selene did, but the situation isn’t the same. We had a contract, and part of that contract stipulated that I was her possession, sexually.”

Emma grimaced. “How did you-“

“You don’t understand. What that meant was that she always had permission to touch me. She was my lover, not just my owner, and there are certain rights that come with that.”

“You’re right,” Emma drawled slowly. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sure you do. If you were dating someone, it would be normal to assume that your advances, although not always accepted, were always welcome.”

“I’m not quite sure why you’re restricting this to ‘dating someone’.”

Emily chuckled. “That’s because you’re an arrogant asshole.”

“And here I thought you didn’t know me!” Emma mocked.

Emily’s fingers ran over her temple and she stilled, looking up. Emily evaded her gaze and smiled weakly. “If we were in a relationship, I would kiss you right now.”

“For being a smartass?” Emma watched her in the weak light from the streetlamps outside. “It wouldn’t be… unwelcome.”

“Would the rest of the contents of the clause also be acceptable?”

“I thought I already was your sex toy.”

Emily shook her head. “Our contract only involves me restricting your sexuality, not… augmenting it.”

Emma considered this. “Would I get more sex?”

“Yes.” Emily rolled her eyes. “There’s no way it would get you less sex.”

“Can I add a stipulation that the method of advance is negotiable?”

Emily cocked her head and eyed her across the pillow. “Negotiable? You’re not going to make it hard and fast?”

“I always like it hard and fast.” Emily snorted. “But I’m willing to give you the opportunity to prove your point.”

“Okay,” Emily smiled. She scooched in until their bodies were touching and brushed a kiss against Emma’s cheek. “But those handcuffs are staying on.”

* * *

It had taken a good five minutes of whining to make Emily undo the cuffs that morning and give her a shoulder rub to make up for the achiness, and now if Emma didn’t run, she was going to be late for class.

“Oh, wait right there!”

Emma glared at her. “What!”

“I’m pretty sure underwear weren’t part of the deal.”

Emma just stared, frowning. “You’re a really single minded whore, aren't you?”

Emily arched an eyebrow. “And who can’t sleep without an orgasm?”

Emma shucked her underwear and straightened out her skirt. It was a bit short, but not indecent, at least if she sat with her legs together. She threw them at Emily’s head, but she caught them out of the air and just grinned.

* * *

Three hour seminars in the basement of the library were interminable, and Emma stared steadily at the clock, willing it to move faster. Brittany sat at her shoulder, jabbering on and on about the romantic hero, but honestly, it wasn’t that thrilling of a book. Brittany would be entertained by a dust mote.

Finally the teacher, five minutes early, cut Brittany off and wrapped up the class.

“Thank you fucking Christ,” Emma muttered. Her shoulders were killing her. She fled the room as quickly as possible, Brittany tagging along behind her like a lost puppy, but stopped short, her caboose bumping into her and dropping papers on the floor.

Emily was standing in the stacks, right in front of the door, putting back a book. She glanced over and smiled. Emma didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help but smile back. She cursed herself a few times for being such a pathetic human being. When she refocused on what was going on, Emily was helping Brittany pick up her things.

“Oh, thank you!”

“You didn’t need to do that,” Emma said quietly.

“Well,” Emily flashed a grin. “I knew you couldn’t.”

Emma really didn’t intend to blush.

Brittany cocked her head. “Are you… Emma’s girlfriend?”

This time it was Emily’s turn to flush. “Uh…”

Emma slipped her arm through her elbow and tangled their hands together. “Sort of,” she finished.

“Awesome!”

They escaped, and Emily tugged her into the stacks. They hurried into the Richardson section, dark and dusty, and paused near the Shakespeare folios.

“What are you doing here?” Emma asked.

“I thought I’d check if you’ve been good.”

“Oh really?” Emma leaned back against the shelves and slid her hands down her own hips. “Want to try me?”

Emily smiled and stepped in, all dark eyes and bright teeth, and her hand slid up the back of Emma’s thigh and cupped her bare ass. “I’d love to.” Emily kissed her, lips parted, her tongue snaking in to play with Emma’s stud. Emma whimpered into it, and hated herself. It shouldn’t be this easy to submit to her, but it was different, being kissed like this. It wasn’t a punishment, it wasn’t revenge, and she wasn’t in control, or fighting for control. She was just being kissed, waiting to be touched, and it felt completely unlike anything else.

Emily’s hands cupped her ass, and squeezed, and Emma pushed back into the shelves, hooking her legs over the other woman’s hips. Her skirt rode up, and Emily stepped in tighter, breaking the kiss and biting at her neck, hands still kneading her ass.

“God, you’re obsessed,” Emma hissed.

Emily just grinned and nipped at her lower lip. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

Her fingers slipped between Emma’s legs and straight into her, nothing, not even friction, barring their way. Emma sucked in air, her head slamming against the books, and sending a few sliding out the other end and clattering to the floor.

“Harder.”

A third finger slid into her, curling slightly. Emily’s hips were moving, driving against her wrist, forcing her hand deeper inside. Emma clawed the metal shelves, trying to stay up now that she could hardly feel her legs.

“Fuck, Emily,” she cursed, and Emily’s thumb skidded roughly over her clit, and she came.

Footsteps echoed across the linoleum, the thunder of a book cart being driven out of an elevator. Emma breathed hard, braced between the shelves and Emily, and grateful for it.

“Hey…” Emily whispered, tracing a path through the sweat on the back of her neck. “You all right?”

“You’re a terrible top,” Emma muttered, but didn’t move. She tilted her head slightly and licked Emily’s neck.

“It kinda doesn’t feel like that right now.”

“Anomalous.”

Emily laughed, tangling her fingers in her hair. “Now I know you’re just being lazy.”

“Maybe.” Emma tested her ability to stand. It didn’t seem worth it. She pressed her mouth to Emily’s pulse point and sucked at it.

“I’m feeling the urge to examine your piercing with my tongue.”

Emily flushed. “You don’t-“

Emma lowered herself to her knees and started unfastening Emily’s jeans. She shuffled them down off her hips. “Actually, I just like catching you with your pants down. The rest is dessert.”

Emily laughed and stroked her hair. Her nails brushed against her scalp, and Emma shivered at the feeling. It was rather pet-like. She tilted her head up and caught her fingers in her mouth and sucked on them. They were damp and sticky and she moved up until the fingertips brushed against the back of her throat, then she let them slowly slide out from between her lips. She shuffled Emily until she was closer to the opposite bookshelf.

“Lean back.”

Emily did, watching her with a far too hesitant expression. It made Emma grin and lick her lips.

“God, why are you so fuckable?” And she leaned in, not waiting for a response.

* * *

Executive Decisions

2009-12-11T16:13:10Z

Poll Results

That poll made me so happy. So many mysterious people voting!

I'm dividing the results into smut and plot. They do tend to move around oddly. Some start as smut and others start as plot and then warp.

Plot Fics
Winner: City on the River
-Fake Empire
-Fake Empire: Emily's Notebooks
It's Hard to be a Man
Hellfire

Smut Fics
Winner: The Bicker One
-Citrus Taste Table Prompts (specific requests in comments)
-The Stripper One
The Threesome One

The winners should update this weekend. :)

Pretty Girls Make Graves (aka Loveaholic) 8/8

2009-12-09T16:32:55Z

Title: Pretty Girls Make Graves (aka Loveaholic) 8/8

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: R

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Apologies: Don't kill me, please?

Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?

Matt did the washing up, and Michael waited while Emily threw up and put her to bed. Emma was assigned to take the twins out for a walk, ‘to aid digestion.’ She found it rather amusing that she had been shanghaied into child-minding, but at least it wasn’t cleaning.

They had gone down to the park. Sam had made his way to the edge of the brook and was reaching in, trying to catch a fish. Susan stood stiffly beside her.

“I saw my mother kiss you.”

“I thought you would have,” Emma said calmly.

Susan turned on her swiftly and glared. “Why did you let her!”

“Why did I let her? Do you really expect that if a beautiful woman plants herself in my lap and throws herself at me that I’m going to turn her down? I don’t press my knees together like a good little girl even for your sake.”

Susan looked shocked and hurt. Emma pressed her lips together.

“Look,” she said finally. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not as bad as all that. I used to feel the same way you did.” She didn’t explain that she had kept feeling that way for quite a bit longer, especially after her first time which was not all a girl could wish. “It’s frightening, but it shouldn’t be. Your father and Matt are good friends, aren’t they? They like to spend time together. They like to give each other hugs.” Emma closed her eyes. “Sometimes it’s nice to be close to someone, just to not feel alone.”

“I don’t believe you,” Susan replied.

“I know.” Emma smiled wryly. “I think I may have been trying to see if I could convince myself.” Because, she didn’t say, being alone had always been better before.

Susan looked like she was going to cry. It was never pleasant imagining your parents having sex. It could never be like it was in stories. It was always a little horrifying, a little disgusting, and much more so if you actually loved your parents. Emma hadn’t had that particular trouble. She had just had others.

“You do know that I won’t lie to you, not even to spare your feelings. You can ask me whatever you want.”

“Except not to do it.”

Emma sighed. “I’m not pursuing her. It has nothing to do with you. But for my own self respect, I will not go after a woman who so clearly has no interest in me.” The reason was a lie, but so many things were that she hardly noticed them anymore.

Susan looked away.

There was a splash and a yelp. Sam had fallen into the water. Emma quickly pulled him out.

“I think it’s time to go home.”

* * *

The headmaster appeared in the hall as Emma got back to the school. She didn’t doubt he had been waiting for her, even if he’d never admit to it. The creak of the wheels from his chair made her stop and wait.

“What did you do today?” It sounded pleasant enough, but it was an interrogation.

“I was invited to the Fleetwood-Prentisses for dinner.”

The headmaster narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been spending time enough with them, haven’t you?”

“Their mother is American. We had one of our traditionless holidays this week. Offering solace to a fellow ex-pat.”

“How nice. Did you have a good time?”

Emma laughed. “I suppose. Family drama is always more entertaining if it’s not your family.”

The headmaster nodded, but looked as if he were considering the comment seriously, not that he usually looked otherwise. “Don’t forget, Emma, the chance that I gave you. Be careful.”

Emma thought about Matt. Anyone else would have treated him as a time bomb ticking, not let him in their house or in their life. But Emily took him into her family, let him live with her children, trusted him to an absurd degree. But maybe he deserved it. She doubted that she did. “I don’t make decisions based on fear,” she said coolly.

“No?” he asked. “No, I suppose not,” he answered himself. “But I think we have learned that it is better not to make them in anger.”

Emma looked down at her hands, closing her fingers over clean skin. “I don’t regret it.” She breathed out slowly. “Except that I could have made them suffer more.”

He looked at her steadily. She couldn’t tell whether it was with disapproval or pity. “All of them?”

* * *

November 26: Fourteen Years Previously.

Emma took the keys from her father’s pocket. He was limp and drooling, bent over the table, food smeared on his face. She could smell the grease fires, the heat radiating from the kitchen, from the sofa in the den that smoked like old horsemeat. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground outside, and she stood shivering on the porch as she turned the key, locking the door behind her.

There were keyholes on both sides.

The snow crunched under her feet as she started the long walk towards town. It should take her at least an hour. The drugs would wear off quickly, but it would be too late. She knew from personal experience that there were no routes out when the door was locked.

She only glanced back once. A warm yellow light shone from the windows. For once it looked pleasant and welcoming, not like the doorway to hell.

The curtains must be on fire, Emma thought, and kept walking.

FIN

and Ficmix! (includes drabbles which (or may not) answer remaining questions, including what happens next).

Pretty Girls Make Graves Ficmix

2009-12-09T14:18:35Z

Pretty Girls Make Graves
A Loveaholic Mini-mix

Warning: Contains spoilers for final chapter!

Pretty Girls Make Graves - The Smiths

You tug my arm, and say : "Give in to lust,
Give up to lust, oh heaven knows we'll
Soon be dust ... "
Oh, I'm not the man you think I am
I'm not the man you think I am

Sometimes she wondered if it was worth the risk.
If she could trust herself, involve herself, reach out and touch...
But it was like walking a tightrope with a tiger underneath,
only she was the tiger.

Killer - Boy Kill Boy

No, no! We made you.
Made you just so we could break you.
It's so sad to see to see you
finding enemies to feed you.

She knew that fury, that way of lashing out,
and she kissed back, as hard as she could.
She tasted Jack on her lips
and smelled smoke in the air.

I Can Feel a Hot One - Manchester Orchestra

I could feel my heartbeat taking me down
And for the moment, I would sleep alright
I'm dealing with a selfish fear
To keep me up another restless night
Another restless night

It should have been harder to walk away.
There were so many ties, so many bonds of love.
Still, everything burned but the rock in her heart.

Orca - Wintersleep

I'll be a killer whale,
when I grow up, I'll be a vulture
I’ll be an animal, A carnivore,
I’ll be a monster
Clenching my jagged jaws
Over the captured
I’ll be a killer whale when I grow up

They told children that it was good to dream, but that it was dangerous to pursue their dreams.
They told them to think of anything, and then told them their fate.
They told stories them about honor, about vengeance. And then they told them to shut up.
They showed them the matches and the liquor cabinet and expected them to forget.

We Both Go Down Together - The Decemberists

Here on these cliffs of Dover
so high you can't see over
and while your head is spinning
hold tight it's just beginning
and oh, my love, my love.
We both go down together.

So many of her students hated Romeo and Juliet.
But in a way, it was the only kind of love she believed in.
It was sudden, and overwhelming.
It was sin, and danger.
And in the end, it was irony, violence and death.
It was real.

"Give me my sin again."

Lullaby - The Editors (The Cure Cover)

His arms are all around me and his tongue in my eyes
"be still be calm be quiet now my precious boy
don't struggle like that or i will only love you more
for it's much too late to get away or turn on the light
the spiderman is having you for dinner tonight"

It was later, after the school was empty and the hallways were dark,
and Emily was there, quietly leaning against the door.
"I wanted to apologize, for forcing you to suffer my family issues."
Emma smiled wryly. "It's not a problem."
"No," said Emily softly, moving towards her. "I want to apologize."
Her knees hit the floor.

Sometimes nightmares started so sweet.

Sooo... comments? I *know* sixteen people have downloaded this.

Zip at Mediafire

Pretty Girls Make Graves (aka Loveaholic) 7/8

2009-12-09T01:25:00Z

Title: Pretty Girls Make Graves (aka Loveaholic) 7/8

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: R

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Apologies: Better title, and possible short mix! (I should probably edit the whole thing too, but no, I will just blame it on the flu.)

Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?

“I want you to stay away from my mother.”

Emma turned around, rather shocked to see Susan standing by her desk. “What?”

“My mother’s a bad liar. She said there was nothing between you. I believed her when she said you don’t get along. I saw you argue at the football match. But I don’t think that’s all.”

Emma very carefully did not let her eyes slide over to where she had taken the girl’s mother on her desk. “I think your mother is a very attractive woman,” she said, carefully. “I think your family is even more interesting, because of how non-traditional it is, and yet how functional it remains. I don’t mind not being allowed to see your mother, but I do remember that you and Sam were very distressed when I stopped coming over to see you.”

“You can see her,” Susan clarified petulantly. “You just can’t fall in love with her.”

Emma blinked. “And what makes you think I would do that? I don’t usually make a habit of falling in love with my student’s parents.”

“I don’t know if there’s a reason why you would or why you wouldn’t. But you belong to us, so you can’t belong to mom.”

Emma smiled lazily. “So it’s alright if I sleep with her. I just can’t choose her over you?”

“You can’t sleep with her either.”

“No?”

“It’s gross. Teachers shouldn’t have sex.”

Emma just shook her head. “The administration generally agrees with you.”

* * *

Susan had clearly forgotten one of the principals she taught in her relationships module. “Forbidden fruit is all the sweeter for being forbidden.” But Emily had always been forbidden to her, perhaps it was more alluring from the other side.

It was getting into November, chilly, but it wasn’t likely to snow. Being from Boston, Emma missed the snow sometimes. She knew that if it did snow she would likely become exasperated with it very quickly. But she allowed herself a little hypocrisy, and stared up at the grey clouds over the playing fields.

After school she often stayed in her classroom grading, or working on her lessons. She glanced up and saw Emily leaning on the doorframe, watching her.

“I think your daughter would not approve if she saw what you were doing right now.”

Emily gave a low laugh. “She let you know?”

“Very firmly.” Emma wriggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Right here, in fact.”

“That must have been thrilling.”

“Oh it was. I love having eleven year olds trying to dictate my sex life.”

“You get used to it.”

“It seems to me that you’re doing a bit of rule breaking.”

Emily chuckled. “Actually, I’m here with the full knowledge and permission of my offspring. Um, Thanksgiving’s this Thursday.”

“Is it? I generally find it irrelevant now that I live in a country that has no such tradition.”

Emily nodded. “Yeah. Michael had a very difficult time figuring out what it was, but my mother likes to remind me that I am still an American citizen and I ‘should respect that.’” Emily imitated her mockingly. “Matt likes to cook for it anyways. And you’re an ex-pat. Would you like to come? On Saturday. It’s hard to have a holiday on a weekday in a country that lacks it.”

Emma cocked her head. “Is your mother going to be there?”

Emily cringed. “Don’t remind me.”

“I really would say no. Except… I kind of desperately want to witness your mother at a family dinner now that she knows.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, the fact that you know me at all is rather her fault. I don’t think I can pass it up.”

“I just hope having company might put her on her best behavior.”

“So manipulative.” Emma couldn’t stop grinning. Emily looked to be in general despair. “And don’t pout like that. It makes me want to suck on your bottom lip, and I believe your daughter would disapprove.”

Emily laughed and moved to depart the classroom. “Alright, around one?”

Emma nodded and went back to work.

* * *

She brought Jack. It was a suitably American offering, and from Emily’s comment at the band concert, she thought it would be appreciated.

It was.

Emily met her at the door and took it right out of her hand, pouring herself a tumbler and drinking it in one gulp. “You are a genius.”

Emma just laughed.

Elizabeth Prentiss was holding court in the living room. Sam was sitting stiffly on the other chair, watching his feet dangle unhappily. Matt had been down in the kitchen, basting, and greeted Emma with a smile. Michael and Susan were nowhere to be seen.

“Mom, this is Emma Frost, Sam and Susan’s teacher.”

Elizabeth gave her a cool look and held out her hand, more to bow over than to shake. Emma matched her look. She wasn’t at all outclassed. She ignored the hand and nodded.

Sam leapt up at the sight of her and actually hugged her around the waist, which had most definitely never happened before.

“Ms. Frost! Ms. Frost. Will you come upstairs? I want to show you something!”

Emma allowed herself to be led, shrugging her helplessness to Emily’s despairing glance.

Up in Sam’s room, he collapsed on the bed and didn’t seem to want to show her anything.

“How has it been with your grandmother here?” Emma asked him.

“Awful,” he said blandly. “Mom and Gran won’t stop fighting, and they fight in that posh way where no one admits that they’re being mean or that they’re mad when they really are.”

Emma knew that method well. There was snappishness coming from downstairs.

“No she is not my girlfriend. The kids love her, excessively. Try to be civil.”

Susan peeked into the room. “You came!” she exclaimed, and hugged Emma as well.

“I think I was invited as a buffer. I probably shouldn’t hide up here the entire time.”

Sam sat up. “But let me show you the comic book I’m making first!”

Susan also exclaimed her intention to show Emma something, and ran off to fetch it.

When dinner was served, Michael was discovered in the dining room, finishing off a set of personalized and attractive place cards. Matt emerged from the kitchen to carve, and Emily was clearly on her way to being soused.

Most of the adults had wine in their wine glasses (Matt and the kids had apple cider) but Emily had hers half-full of a suspicious dark liquid.

“Don’t you want to cut that with something?”

Emily gave her a narrow look and pulled the glass to her chest. “Don’t touch.”

“So, Ms. Frost,” Elizabeth began. “How did you end up at our family party?” She gave her a suspicious look.

Emma smiled and cocked her head. “I think it’s mainly because I’m an American, and your daughter took pity on me for being so far from home.”

“I see. What brought you to England?”

“I wanted to be as far as possible from the remains of my family. I tried French Equatorial Africa, but decided I preferred an English speaking locale.”

“You don’t speak a foreign language?”

“A few, but I prefer to live in English. And I’m more employable in English as well.”

“You teach at my grandchildren’s school.”

“Yes.”

“And are they good students?”

“They are two of my best.”

“They haven’t shown any… adverse effects?”

Emma played dumb. “Of what?”

Elizabeth formed her lips into a thin line. She turned away from Emma. “I see you’re not drinking Matthew. No doubt your parents would be pleased.”

“I’m also not going to church. I think they might not be so happy about that.”

“I suppose not. Would it be rude of me to inquire about your plans? Surely you’re not planning on staying here permanently.”

Matt smiled stiffly. “Why not? Your daughter did me a great kindness by giving me a chance to prove that I was healthy, but she has told me that as long as I stay healthy and am not a burden on the household, I can stay. I do bring in a bit more than Michael at the moment.”

Michael stuck his tongue out. “Only because artists are underappreciated in this society.”

“And what do you think is a chef?”

“Menial labor.”

They play-growled at each other and Sam laughed at their hijinks. Emma watched.

Somehow they made it through dinner, Emma stealing sips from Emily’s glass of liquor, and being nearly aggressively polite to Mrs. Prentiss.

“Why don’t you bring in the pies?” Matt suggested to the kids. They disappeared down the stairs into the kitchen, and Emma stole another sip of whiskey.

Mrs. Prentiss made a disgusted face. “You tell me you’re not lovers, and then you throw it blatantly in my face.”

“You want blatant?” Emily hissed at her, and Emma suddenly wished she knew exactly how much she had drank, because this wasn’t normal. “I can give you blatant!” And suddenly she was straddling Emma’s lap. “She only fucked me once, but I suppose I ought to repay the favor, right?”

She leaned in and bit down hard on Emma’s neck. Emma thought this was amazing fun. No one got molested at her family dinner parties until after dessert, people usually just stormed out or collapsed in the pudding. She cupped Emily’s ass and squeezed, exploiting the opportunity.

Emily sat back, giving her a dirty grin, then quickly leaned back in and caught her lips. She tasted like Jack and Emma pressed her cheek to open her mouth and allow more access.

Elizabeth stood up, her chair scraping across the floor. “I won’t be witness to this!” And she stormed out.

Emily pressed her face against Emma’s shoulder. “Is she really gone?”

The door slammed shut.

“I think so.”

“Thank god.” Emily looked up, biting her lower lip, eyes wide. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

* * *

8: He will not smile for anyone

Pretty Girls Make Graves (Loveaholic Masterpost)

2009-12-09T00:28:59Z

Title: Pretty Girls Make Graves (aka Loveaholic) Masterpost

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: R

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls. New title belongs to the Smiths.

Apologies: Yeah, I hated that title. This is better.

Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?

Chapters:

1: Upon the sand, upon the bay

2: "There is a quick and easy way" you say

3: Before you illustrate

4: I'd rather state :

5: "I'm not the man you think I am

6: I'm not the man you think I am"

7: And Sorrow's native son

8: He will not smile for anyone

And:

Pretty Girls Make Graves: A Mini-Ficmix for Loveaholic

Loveaholic 6/8

2009-12-08T04:01:36Z

Title: Loveaholic 6/8

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: R

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Apologies: And City on the River breaks into the lead again! But of course, what did I write last night? Not my paper that's due tomorrow... chapter 4 of Bicker. *sigh* Bedtime now, mad paper writing tomorrow.

Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?

One of the lessons Emma always taught to first years was Sex Ed. She had had a long discussion with the headmaster and finally convinced him that a co-ed boarding school really did need a sex ed class. She split it into three modules: Relationships, Hygiene, and Eroticism (or Social, Physical, and Intellectual). She usually liked to read Avi’s Devil’s Race to them around this time, since there were few books for children that described incestuous lust as vividly.

She started with a basic psychological outline of emotions. She asked for the students to give her emotions. Some were basic, some more creative, like ‘the feeling you get when your brother puts a frog down your shirt,’ eventually someone would manage to enunciate ‘love’ and once the giggling was over Emma would bear down on the child. “Are there different kinds of love?”

Sometimes she would get ‘gay love’ from a kid with an older sibling, but usually she got ‘love for pets,’ ‘love for parents,’ ‘love for siblings that sometimes felt more like hate.’ She had to let the kids do most of the work on this one, because if she was required to describe her emotions about various members of her family from personal experience it would start with ‘fear and disgust’ for her father, ‘anger and disappointment’ towards her mother, ‘rage, disappointment and betrayal’ for her brother, ‘envy and repulsion’ towards her older sister, and ‘indifference’ for her younger.

She didn’t actually believe in love, so she broke up all the things the kids classed under it into their more accurate groups.

Companionship, for the people (or animals) you spent time with and always wanted to have a relationship with.

Friendship, for the people who knew you well and liked you, and you knew well and liked them.

Attraction, for the people you didn’t really know and didn’t have any bonds with, but were obsessed with anyways.

She always got a laugh with that one. Enough of them had seen bare attraction in action, and enjoyed its ludicrousness. It wasn’t as funny when you could see it in yourself, knew that you were being ludicrous, but couldn’t stop.

She explained that there could be combinations of the three. When asked to write down which qualities their relationships exhibited, most put Companionship for family members, and Companionship and Friendship for their closest friends. (They were all too embarrassed to admit to an attraction, even if they were ‘going steady.’ Sometimes Emma wondered if you only started to be attracted to people around age 20. Even arousal in years before that was often more situational than relational.)

It was always sort of cute and sort of sad to see them so certain that they were committed to their friends. So few friendships would last into adulthood, and if they did, they would likely be long distance, no commitment, reduced intimacy.

Emily had done it, chosen friendship and commitment over attraction. It was a dangerous decision, especially now that her husband had found passion with someone who shared their lives. She couldn’t judge how intimate he was with his lover, but something about Michael suggested that he wasn’t the type to begin a sexual relationship with someone he wasn’t intimate with, especially when they lived together.

Emma didn’t believe that all three could exist together for extended periods of time. Attraction fizzled with too much intimacy, intimacy failed with too much commitment, commitment failed when challenged by attraction. Everyone wanted it, but it was impossible. Perhaps Emily had realized that as well, which was why she chose two out of three, the most reliable two out of three. It was as likely to work as anyone else’s relationship. At least she wasn’t idealistic.

It was interesting to get Susan and Sam’s charts. They weren’t exactly the same.

Susan Delphine Fleetwood-Prentiss

Mom – Me = Companionship, Friendship
Dad – Me = Companionship, Friendship
Matt – Me = Friendship
Sam – Me = Companionship, Friendship, Irritation
Grandma Fleetwood – Me = Companionship, Friendship
Grandpa Fleetwood – Me = Companionship, Friendship
Gran – Me =
Ms. Frost – Me = Friendship
Mom – Dad = Companionship, Friendship
Mom – Matt = Friendship
Dad –Matt = Friendship, A…

Sam F.P

Mom – Me = Companionship, Friendship
Dad – Me = Companionship, Friendship
Matt – Me = Friendship
Susan – Me = Companionship
Grandma F – Me = Companionship, Friendship
Grandpa F – Me = Companionship, Friendship
Gran – Me = Companionship
Ms. Frost – Me = Friendship
Danny – Me = Companionship, Friendship
Mom – Dad = Companionship, Friendship
Mom – Matt = Companionship, Friendship
Dad – Matt = Friendship, Attraction

That was interesting. Both of the children were clearly aware of the relationship between their father and Matt. Emma wondered if their parents knew how knowledgeable they were. Probably not. The rift between them and their grandmother was also very clear.

Emma mailed copies home.

* * *

“Mother,” Emily said tiredly into the phone, and went about opening the mail. “I know you don’t like what I’ve done with my life. I know you don’t like it that I’m a professor and not a diplomat. I know you don’t like it that I chose to live in the UK. None of those things have made me change my mind. Why on earth do you think that your disapproval will encourage me to leave Michael?”

High frequencies echoed from the phone. Emily groaned silently and unfolded a sheet of paper. Her finger scanned down it and froze on the last line.

“Mom,” she said, he tone entirely different. “I can’t talk right now.”

The response was shrill.

“Mom. I’m gay too. You knew that, you just let yourself stop believing it when I got married. And if you call Michael or Matt one more name, I will never speak to you again.” Her words were stern and cold and completely believable. Michael was standing in the doorway, staring at her. She hung up.

“What was that about?”

Emily showed him the scrap of notepaper. “I think we need to have that talk with the kids.”

* * *

Sam and Susan sat nervously at the counter.

“So,” Michael started jovially. “I’ve heard you’ve started studying relationships at school.”

There were two hesitant nods.

“Well, we thought we’d help out with that, and tell you a bit about your mom’s and my relationship.”

“Are you getting a divorce?” Sam asked in a small voice.

“Jared said that when your parents sit you down to talk about their relationship, it means they’re getting a divorce,” Susan added.

Michael gaped.

“Of course not,” Emily snapped. Then she felt guilty. She shouldn’t respond to her children in the same way that she did to her mother. “We have a very good relationship. And both of you got it exactly right.” She put the papers on the table. “We’re best friends, and we are going to stay together. We made a commitment to stay together. But we’re not attracted to each other.”

Sam made a face. “Well, that would be gross.”

Susan bit her lip. “We knew that,” she said softly. “You don’t even sleep in the same room. Other people’s parents sleep in the same room.”

“And sometimes Dad sleeps in the same room as Matt,” said Sam, happily.

Susan stiffened. “No he doesn’t.”

“Of course he does,” said Sam, confused. “I’ve seen him coming out in the mornings.”

“You can’t say that!”

“Hey,” Emily put up her hand to stop it. “Lets not get ahead of ourselves. We’re a family, so we don’t have to lie to each other. Sam can say that, if he wants, to us. You just need to be careful who you say that to outside our family.”

“Like Gran,” Sam muttered.

“What about Ms. Frost?” Susan asked.

Emily felt herself turning red. “If you need to,” she managed to say. “Ms. Frost knows what’s going on, and you can talk to her.”

Susan cocked her head and looked at her curiously.

“What is going on?” asked Sam.

“Has Ms. Frost talked about homosexuality yet?” inquired Michael. There was a bit of a smirk in his voice, and Emily smacked him.

Susan shrugged. “She just said that some people were attracted to mostly one gender or another, but a lot of times there was a mix.”

“Bi,” Michael mouthed. Emily glared at him.

“And she said that attraction didn’t mean anything. It was a physical response and it meant about as much as sleeping for ten hours, or wanting to always eat dinner at three o’clock.”

Michael blinked. “That’s… interesting.”

Emily glanced away. “That’s Emma,” she muttered.

“Well,” Michael smiled again, and Emily wondered why he always felt that putting a good face on it made distressing things more easy to say. “Your mother and I are both… homosexual. When I’m attracted to someone, it’s usually a guy. And your mother is usually attracted to women.”

Emily frowned. “Usually is still not very often.”

Sam was cringing at this discussion. Susan was just very still and pale.

“But because we loved each other in all the other ways, we decided that we wanted to be part of each other’s families. Attraction wasn’t that important.”

“Good,” said Sam, fidgety. “I get it all now. Can I go? I really don’t want to hear you talk about sex.”

Michael laughed.

“Sure, you can go,” said Emily. He fled like the hounds of hell were after him, but Susan, stayed sitting calmly and seriously. “Do you have any questions?”

Susan turned coolly to her father. “Are you in love with Matt?”

“What?” he gaped.

“Well, you don’t act like you are just attracted to him. Ms. Frost said you need 2 out of 3 to call it love.”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t, I don’t really know. But I do like him very much.”

Susan looked at her mother. “And that’s okay?”

“Matt’s my friend too.” She glared at her husband. “Technically, he was my friend first.”

“But it’s not really fair, is it? You both have someone to be with and be close to. And dad has someone to be attracted to. But what about mom?”

Michael elbowed her lightly. “There’s always Ms. Frost.”

Susan’s eyes widened and she looked shocked and appalled. “You wouldn’t!”

The shocked exclamation was like a slap across the face. Emily paled.

“You have?”

“There is nothing between me and your teacher,” Emily said firmly. “Some people,” she glared at Michael, “think that there ought to be. But there’s nothing. I appreciate her for being a good teacher for you, but we don’t even get along.”

Susan nodded slowly. “I’ll believe you. But don’t do it. I don’t want you to be with her.”

Only Michael was confused. “Why not? I thought you liked her.”

“I do. That’s why. She’s my teacher, mine and Sam’s. I need to be able to talk to her, to trust her. And I can’t do that if mom’s in the way.”

Now Emily was feeling horribly guilty. She crouched down and put her hand on Susan’s shoulder. “I promise, I won’t get in your way. But, I do know, that even if we did… start something, I could never be as important to her as you are.”

* * *
7: And Sorrow's native son

Loveaholic 5

2009-12-06T12:53:33Z

Title: Loveaholic

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: R

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Apologies: Aftermath.

Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?

Emma found it hard to sit at her desk the next day. She was tense and irritable. It was never enjoyable to come face to face with your true self, and when it became clear that your true self was an unrepentant asshole, it was even less pleasant. Emily was gorgeous and pliant and Emma had never been very talented at things like self-control. But it wasn’t just lust. She had wanted to get her nails inside of that perfect family, to twist it and wreck it and rip it up. Just sleeping with Emily wouldn’t have done it. But fucking her, on the desk, in the room her children came to every day…

(There were only so many ugly things you could do without being taken over by the creeping rot, and Emma had so little left pure already.)

Her family was already spinning out of control. The agreement had worked perfectly, until Michael had found a lover and her mother had found out. Leeds may be a city, but it was made up of small towns, and they were so blatant. They were too young to be real parents, too fashionable, too sexual, and if it got out that both of the parents were carrying on affairs…. Homosexuality was one thing, but open marriages were definitely another. And she had wanted that. She had wanted to do every dirty thing she could think of to that woman, she had wanted to get caught, get the headmaster involved, get Emily’s mother involved, and she could have destroyed that family. It would have been so easy.

Sam was bouncing up and down in front of the desk now. What would he have thought if he had seen his mother bent over it? Would Susan be able to understand this like she understood so many things? Could she understand how Emma’s hatred of her own family had caused her to tug at the threads of this family’s secrets until she had found its unraveling point?

No. It was so much better to keep a secret secret, even if it meant that she could not allow herself to taste that flavor of sweet sweet sin.

* * *

The trouble was, Sam had decided that she needed to get out more and kept inviting her to games, and Susan was desperate to show her a project she had been working on. Emma put it off and put it off, but every time they both looked so sad, and it made her very uncomfortable.

Then Emily showed up in her classroom.

“I think I need to talk to you.”

Emma looked away, the twisted shock in her stomach terrifying her. “I thought we said we weren’t going to talk.”

“Not about that.” Emily frowned. “Maybe a bit about that.”

“Not here, somewhere neutral.” She couldn’t bring Emily to her room. If anyone saw them, it would look terribly inappropriate, and be against the rules. But if they were overheard…

They ended up behind the rugby pitch, in an area screened by trees. It was difficult to stand there as Emily paced and looked irritable. Emma waited for her to begin, but she didn’t seem to want to start. So Emma started for her.

“I don’t like what you’re doing to my children.”

Emily blinked and stared at her. “What?”

“Isn’t that what you were going to say?”

“Um, something like that, maybe.”

“What do you want me to do?” Emma shook her head.

Strain was apparent on Emily’s face. “I want to understand you. You were their friend as well as their teacher, until… until that. So why not now? Do you not want to see me? Or did you… get what you want, and are done?”

“I’m done.” Emma said, and watched Emily’s eyes widen in shock and disgust.

“What? But, what did you even get from me?”

“You let me in. I got to see you spread open and sweaty and sated for me. I got to mark you. I fucked you on my desk, where I see your children every day. Isn’t that enough?”

“Do I disgust you?”

“I disgust myself. Do you know why I came to England?” It sounded like a nonsequitor, but it wasn’t, it could never be for her.

“Why should I know that?”

“I came to get away from my family. I hated them, with every ounce of my soul. We were perfect on the outside, but inside we were rotten. We had keyholes on both sides of the door. I don’t believe in good families. You’re going to fuck those children up whatever you do. You tried so hard, but it’s falling apart in front of you, isn’t it? What happens when everyone finds out about you?”

“It’s nobody’s business but ours! And they can’t do anything! Michael and I are married and they are our children. There aren’t any loopholes. They cannot take them away from us!”

“And when they find out?” Emma shook her head. “They are too smart to be lied to.”

“We don’t lie to them.”

“Your daughter already knows that there’s something wrong with your family. What’s Michael going to choose in the end? A family that’s twisting out of control or the endless understanding of his boyfriend.”

“Don’t try to scare me. You’re the one who’s afraid. Your family might have been awful, but no matter what happens, we will not hurt our children. They’re smart enough to understand why we made the choices we made, but they can’t understand why you’ve stopped being interested in them.”

Emma shook her head. “I can’t give them special treatment anymore.”

“Why not? Are you afraid?”

“Of course. I’m afraid of you.” She couldn’t say the rest. She couldn’t admit how this was tearing her up. She had wanted so badly for there to be something truly wrong. But the only thing wrong was her. Recovery was a lie. There was nothing to recover from, just her own vile nature.

She stepped in close and pressed her mouth against Emily’s. Emily gasped slightly, and tilted her head up, not kissing back, but not resisting. It wasn’t fair. It was so obvious that Emily didn’t want her, and she didn’t need anything that Emma could give her.

It felt so strange, how Emma hated her so much for what she had and what she meant, and how she wanted to be near it and feel it at the same time.

* * *

On the way up the stairs to Susan’s room, Emma passed Emily, leaning against the wall and watching her. She nodded in acknowledgement. Emily closed her teeth on the side of her lip and gave a half smile. It was her right, as she had won. Emma wasn’t afraid to admit when her actions had been selfish, even if their motivation had been less so.

* * *
6: I'm not the man you think I am"

Loveaholic 4

2009-12-05T14:15:12Z

Title: Loveaholic

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: R- We're upping this chapter to NC-17

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Apologies: Not really a pretty scene...

Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?

“God! Just leave me alone!” Emily threw her coat at Michael who was trying to get close enough to do her hair.

“Please! I know just what to do! It will look beautiful!”

“Why do I need to look beautiful? I’m not the one with a date!”

“Yeah, but Matt already knows I’m beautiful. You need to pull tonight!”

“I do not need to pull tonight! Why are you always on me about needing more sex? And it’s a school party, who am I going to pull? Jared’s mother?”

“What about Ms. Frost?”

Emily cringed. “Are you joking?”

Michael shrugged. “I think you have a chance there.”

“What if I don’t want a chance? What if I just want you to leave me alone?”

He leaned in and kissed her mouth gently. “As long as you aren’t afraid of being happy.”

* * *

Emma blinked, rather shocked. It was a horrible school event with a band concert and punch and inedible food and the Fleetwood-Prentisses sauntered in as if they were heading out to a club. The tips of Matt’s hair were blue, and he was dressed in tight faded jeans and a patterned long-sleeved shirt. Michael wore a long flowing duster with shiny black buttons and a white ruffled shirt with a top hat to match, and Emily… Emily’s hair was twisted up high, one curving lock falling past her face. Her lips were painted red, black silk fingerless elbow-length gloves, and a dress: bare shoulders, a narrow, corset-topped sheath, with a tattered, asymmetrical skirt, and Emma choked on her vodka-spiked punch.

There were definitely a few comments from the assembled parents. Emma glared at a woman with a particularly disapproving tone. Michael glanced over and smiled at her and she felt rather shocked. She had thought she had been rather successful at alienating him. He was messing around; hiding Sam and Susan in his voluminous coat and having them practice sneaking around unseen. Matt had managed to get caught up in a discussion with the headmaster about healthy foods in dining halls. Emily was standing awkwardly near the punch. Emma slipped up behind her and added a drop of vodka from her flask into her cup.

“You look like you could use that.”

Emily flinched at the sight of her. She glanced over to Michael and then back to Emma. “He didn’t put you up to anything, did he?”

Emma blinked. “I… can’t say. I thought I had irritated him fully, but he seems to be being excessively pleasant.”

Emily laughed weakly. “I think he likes you. As do both of my children. That doesn’t mean that I do.”

“I wasn’t about to assume so.”

Emily grimaced and seemed to be considering explaining herself better, but decided against it. She took a sip of her punch and gagged. “Don’t you have Jack or something, that will actually make it taste better?”

“I’m not working miracles here.”

Emma had things to do, parents to talk to, children to congratulate, but she kept Emily in the corner of her eye the whole time. She couldn’t keep her eyes away for long. She saw her drop her punch in the trash and go over to Michael who was gesticulating and telling her something Emma couldn’t hear. Emily looked irritated at him, but didn’t resist when he pushed her back into the crowd.

It was getting later. The janitor was pointedly turning off lights, and the parents were taking their children home. She found the Fleetwood-Prentisses near the coats, arguing.

“I will take them home. But you brought your own car. You should stay longer.”

Emily glared at Michael. “You made me bring my car. There’s absolutely no reason for me to stay.”

“Yes there is,” said Matt, beeping her nose. “And in fact, if you give us at least an hour and a half, we can get them to bed and do something else.”

Emily groaned. “Stay out of my room.”

The men and the kids disappeared and Emily groaned, leaning into the coats.

“You’re actually staying?” Emma asked her.

Emily glanced unhappily at her watch. “The library’s already closed, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Emily looked up at her suspiciously. “You lied when you said you weren’t in on this.”

“I didn’t.” Emma caught her chin and lifted it up so she could see her face. “That doesn’t mean that I won’t participate.”

“You’d sleep with me?”

“It’s not like it would be a chore.”

“That’s all it would be. I’m not interested in anything else.”

“That’s fine. Your husband explained the rule.” Emma smirked. “It’s not like I would press for anything else even if you offered.”

Emily frowned. “You wouldn’t?”

“I’m not someone who’s desperate for a relationship. I try to avoid them generally.”

Emily blinked and gave her a hard curious look. “Then it seems like this situation works well for both of us.”

Emma nodded. “Come with me. I need to fetch something from my desk for the weekend.”

It was dark in the hallways. She could hear the janitors clearing the last people out and locking the doors. She had her own keys, and either way, she lived in the dorms just down the hallway and up the stairs. She unlocked the door to her classroom, and didn’t bother to turn on the lights. She heard the door click shut behind Emily, and set down the papers on her chair.

“Lock it.”

“What?”

“Lock it,” Emma hissed, suddenly right in front of her, her body close. She reached over Emily’s shoulder and clicked the bolt. Then she pressed her mouth to the woman in front of her’s and slid her hands up her hips to her waist. The silk of her dress was cool under her fingers, but her mouth was so hot, and Emily was kissing her back.

She had been waiting to take that dress off all night, but it was too much work and motor control, so she merely hiked up the skirt and set Emily on the desk, her hands sliding up the even softer warm silk of her thighs.

“God, I want you so much.” Emma found the zipper on the back of the dress and pulled it down just enough so she could peel the bodice away and press her mouth to Emily’s full breasts. Emily twisted her fingers into her hair so tightly that it hurt. Her breathing had already changed and she had kicked her shoes off and was hooking her ankles around Emma and trying to pull her in close enough to grind against her.

“Why?” Emily gasped, breathy-voiced.

“Not a useful question right now…”

“Why does my body need this?”

“Because it’s a body,” Emma whispered, biting at her neck. “Do you ask it why it needs food or warmth?” Her fingers found the wet heat of Emily’s centre and she let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

“Nothing about this feels natural.” Then she gasped as Emma’s fingers slid inside of her. She clung roughly to Emma’s neck, and Emma felt something hot and wet on her cheek. Was it tears?

“Does it feel good?”

“It feels like the way pixie sticks taste.” Emily choked and lifted her hips, forcing Emma’s fingers even farther in. “Like the tangy chemical sweetness of sin.”

Emma circled her fingers deeply inside of her. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel.”

This was what she had wanted, and hadn’t been able to tell herself. She wanted to be inside of her, her teeth marking her skin, breaking her. And that's what she did, fucking her steadily and roughly, making her sweat, tears squeeze out the corners of her eyes. Emma’s nails traced lines that flared red. She bit at her neck and breasts. Emily’s hair unwound and her fingers twisted into Emma’s shirt as she thrust her hips again and again. Emma pressed her thumb against her clit and curled her fingers inside, sliding slickly across the place that made her gasp. And Emily came, burying any sound in Emma’s chest and coating her fingers with a thick wetness.

Emma kept moving, shallowly and slow, until Emily sighed, releasing the death grip on her shirt and leaned back onto the desk. Emma withdrew her hand and sucked on it absently. She wanted to just look at the woman, sprawled out on her desk, with her dress scrunched around her middle, her lipstick smeared, her chest rising and falling, hair coming undone.

Moonlight glinted off her ring, and it was then that Emma realized why she had wanted this so much.

Emily was sitting up, rubbing her eyes, and moving a few pencils from where they had been acting as torture devices. She seemed sort of tentative. “Do you want me to…”

Emma shook her head. “I got what I wanted.” She helped Emily off the desk and fixed her dress.

“Are you… sure?”

“You wanted to get off and I wanted to fuck you. Let’s not make more of this than it needed to be.”

Emily nodded slowly and uncomfortably.

“Can you drive?”

Emily chuckled weakly. “You were good, but I don’t think you were that good.”

“We don’t need to talk about this,” said Emma flatly.

“No. I don’t think we do.”

Emma unlocked the door and Emily slipped out with one half glance back.

Emma sank into her desk chair and leaned her head in her hands, wondering what she had done.

* * *

Emily drove in circles up around the moors until the moon had set. She slipped silently into the house, hoping not to disturb anyone, but Matt was in the kitchen.

“Look at you, all post sex messy,” he grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before.”

“Yeah,” Emily looked away. “Not for a while at least.”

“Are you all right? It wasn’t… bad, was it?”

“No. It wasn’t bad.” She fingered a still tender bite mark on her neck. “It was just sex though. Nothing special.”

* * *

5: "I'm not the man you think I am

So... How do I get myself into these situations?

2009-12-04T15:24:51Z

I was having an interesting morning (avoiding english syllable structure) and instead trying to organize all my projects.
I love that I have 5 in progress novels. ....5. I'm not even looking at projects that aren't written. Comics are irrelevant.
I probably should look at how many projects I have that are due *next week*. (2 papers, one write-up of a syntax problem, one homework assignment. I am drowning in linguistics. And I'm not even thinking about grad school apps. I've already missed one deadline. Good job me!)

But since I was looking at my projects, I looked at my fic too, and It seems that I have nine projects that I have vaguely promised at least one more part to. 4 that I actually intended to write as series, and five that just turned out that way.

View Poll: In Progress Poll

Since I generally fail at treating a LJ like an LJ and not as a Fic distribution center, here's an attempt at interactivity.

Loveaholic 3

2009-12-04T15:09:07Z

Title: Loveaholic

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: R

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Apologies: I am doling this out in small chunks. Hopefully I will finish my papers soon and I can get back to work on my sagas.

Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?

Emma didn’t realize exactly why she had been so desperately curious about Sam and Susan’s family until Sam came up to her desk after class let out and smiled.

“I really liked Kidnapped!. Can you tell me any more that are like it?”

It was his smile, exactly like his mother’s, and Emma felt mildly ill. “Of course. You don’t mind if they’re difficult?”

“Was this one supposed to be difficult?”

Emma laughed. “I’ll write you a few recommendations.”

He smiled again. “Um… I’m having a game this Saturday. Susan is too, after me. Just if you wanted to come.”

Emma sat back. “I’ll see if I have time. Thank you for inviting me.”

She knew she was going. If anything, she had to find out more about that family.

It was a chilly morning, and she felt a little awkward being at the pitch with the cluster of parents in their macs, but there were quite a few students she recognized, some who pulled their parents up to introduce her.

And then they arrived. Emily slipping out of the car from the driver’s side, Sam in his jersey and shorts, his boots dangling from his hand as he hopped up and down, ready to rush off. Susan, more sedate, a book under her arm. And then two men, one tall, dark haired, and good looking, (something about the lines of his face reminded Emma of Susan. Sam was entirely his mother.) and a smaller man, soft hair, lighter, with an easy smile and a way of walking with his shoulders curled in that made him seem wounded.

Then Sam spotted her and ran over. “You came!”

He dragged her over to Emily who looked at her, a little shocked and very uncomfortable.

“She gave me a book, and it was really good, and I invited her to come!” he was explaining, and the tall dark man smiled and stuck out his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

And Emma hated him. She slipped away as soon as she could.

* * *

“You’re going to have to be the last word on this one, Ems,” Michael started, wiggling his eyebrows. “But is she… incredibly, incredibly fit?”

Emily glowered at him and stormed away.

Emma was leaning against the side, watching the game. She wasn’t attracted to her. She wasn’t interested in being attracted to her. But she had come for her son’s game. Emily needed to apologize.

“Um… Excuse me.”

Emma glanced over at her. “Yes?”

And now she knew where her daughter had picked it up from. She swallowed hard. It was even more intimidating full size. “I wanted to thank you. I didn’t expect you to give Susan such a…”

“Immoral and atheistic definition of sin?”

Emily chuckled weakly. “You could put it that way.”

Emma cocked her head and looked at her. “I’m sorry if I was brusque with you. She seemed very hurt by the idea of being involved in something others would find sinful. But once I comforted her, I realized that I needed to make certain that I hadn’t just made her feel more comfortable in a truly dangerous situation.”

Emily shook her head. “It’s not a dangerous situation.”

“No, not for her,” Emma said blandly.

Emily gave her a sharp look. “Who for?”

“For you.”

“What?”

“Your husband is a faggot and you’re living with his lover.”

Emily stiffened. “How dare you-“

“Am I wrong?”

“You had better not use words like that around my children!”

Emma looked surprised. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I thought you were a victim, but you went in with your eyes wide open.”

Emily blinked, shocked and tense. “I’ve… I’ve never had someone guess. Even if they understand part of it-”

“He’s more obvious than you.” Emma gave her a long slow look. “But you’re the same.” She laughed. “God, what made you think this was a good idea? You wanted babies that badly?”

“It was a perfect idea,” Emily snapped. “I have everything I wanted. I have a family. A real family, who love me. Do you have that?”

Emma stepped back from her vehemence. “I’m not going to criticize you if you’re happy.”

“I am happy,” Emily said, frustrated and angry. “Why does no one believe me?” She turned and walked away. Emma watched her go.

* * *

Emma wasn’t interested in people, as people. But she was interested in Emily. She could tell because usually she could control her tendencies to be an asshole enough to not make someone throw her out and storm off in within a minute and a half both times they had met. But this time she intended to be different.

It was parent teacher night, and she had been vaguely hoping to see her again, but it was Michael who walked through the door. She frowned.

“Hey,” he smiled, a hint of shyness in what was probably considered disarming to most. Emma wasn’t disarmed. She considered beginning an arms race.

“Mr. Fleetwood.”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Did I do something to you?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, a lot of people have looked at me like I’m a bug at one point or another, but Emily said you understood.”

“I understand, it doesn’t mean that I think it’s wonderful.”

“You think that faggots can’t raise children?”

“Mr. Fleetwood. Your children are some of the best in my class. Susan has always been at the top, and Samuel is quickly catching up now that I have found something that holds his attention. If I had ever though that, it would be simply disproved. I hold no rancour towards your family. I just don’t like you.”

He blinked. “Don’t you think you should get to know me first?”

“I don’t believe that’s necessary.”

He laughed. Emma sat up stiffly. She hadn’t meant to be amusing.

“I can’t say you’re the only one who’s disliked me before they’ve got to know me. But usually I can figure out why. Most people didn’t like me because I was a punk, a goth punk. It made them uncomfortable because they weren’t sure if I was going to cut someone or start to cry. Emily’s mother hates me because she thought I was taking care of her daughter, and then she found out that I wasn’t doing a very good job.”

Emma scowled, and Michael looked surprised. “Is that… why? Emily is a grown woman who makes her own decisions. And she’s my wife. That may not mean anything to you, but to me that means that whatever problems we’re having, whatever arguments, they are our business, and it’s my responsibility to make sure she is happy.”

“And if she’s not?”

“Then it’s a problem I have to solve.”

“And you’re not going to leave her for your lover?”

He gave her a stern look. “No. I love Matt, and I think Emily deserves to have someone like that in her life, but we made a choice, a decision, years ago, that no matter who we fell for, or who we wanted to take a risk on, we would not jeopardize our family. Leaving isn’t an option.”

Emma considered him for a long moment. “All right. I understand.”

He gave a short nod. “Can we talk about my kids now?”

“Lets do that.”

* * *

4: I'd rather state :

Loveaholic 2

2009-12-03T03:13:34Z

Title: Loveaholic

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: R

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Apologies: I am doling this out in small chunks. Hopefully I will finish my papers soon and I can get back to work on my sagas.

Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?

1: Upon the sand, Upon the bay,

Emma couldn’t quite get that family out of her head. It was a puzzle, what was going on with them that would give them something to hide. And the children were too intelligent and had too much potential to waste in secrets. It was important to give them support.

She was assigning a book report in class. Each student would do a different book, so even if they all summarized it, she wouldn’t die of boredom. The students could present an idea of their own, or they could pick one off a list she provided.

Susan already had an idea. She was interested in Kurt Vonnegut and Emma thought eleven was probably old enough for some of it. But Sam looked bored and distracted when she passed out the list. A few people shot up their hands and suggested books they wanted to read. Some were decent enough; others were too easy. But if someone suggested Goosebumps, she would counter with Arthur Conan Doyle’s horror stories. If they wanted an Indiana Jones novelization she would push Robert Louis Stevenson. And if they were desperately oversexed, she’d give them James Bond. She called Sam up as the kids fled to lunch and asked him if he had any ideas. He shrugged. “I’m not that interested in books.”

Emma nodded. “Did your mom read to you a lot when you were little?”

He nodded again. “We don’t have a TV. It’s always books.” He frowned. “I used to like books. But in fourth grade, we read Bridge to Terabithia, and,” he sighed. “I just didn’t want to read anymore after that. It seems like all the books now are about death or romance and I’d rather play football.”

Emma nodded. “I hate that book. I’m trying to have it banned from the curriculum, but no success so far.”

Sam laughed. “Dad said it was supposed to be tragic. But tragic is like Redwall, when warriors die for something. She just died. For nothing.”

Emma took out the list. “Do you like Redwall?”

“Yeah, but I’ve read all of them.”

“I want you to try this one,” she circled one of the names on the list. “I think you’ll like it. And I promise that you can trust it.”

“No one dies?”

“I didn’t say that. And sometimes it’s complicated when people die, and who’s to blame. But I think you’ll like it anyways.”

Sam shrugged. “I’ll try it. Saves me from picking one.”

Emma laughed. “Go to lunch.”

* * *

“Susan.”

Susan glanced up from her book to her mother, leaning in the doorway. “Yes?”

Emily winced slightly. She had never quite figured out where her daughter had picked up that mode of greeting. It reminded her vaguely of her mother, but her mother would just sigh, put-upon and irritated. She didn’t have the arch inquiring tone. “Your teacher stopped by yesterday…”

Susan’s eyes lit up. “Really? Did she bring me anything to do?”

“Uh, no.”

Susan drooped.

“She said you were an excellent student.”

This perked her up slightly.

“And she said you had come to her with a problem.”

“No a problem,” Susan said uncomfortably. “Just a question.”

“What is sin?”

“It’s not like I didn’t know. I just wanted to know what it meant, not the word, but what it meant to be…”

“A sinner?” Emily sighed. “You could have come to me.”

Susan made a face that displayed clearly that she couldn’t have.

“What did she say?”

“She said that sin was a… way of thinking that labeled things good and bad without…” she frowned, trying to phrase it. “Without asking why they were good or bad, and who they hurt to make them bad.”

Emily stared. That was an incredibly nuanced view of morality and not at all what she had expected to hear. “Oh. That’s… that’s a good answer, I guess.”

Susan rolled her eyes. “That’s why I asked her. She’s really smart.”

“So are you… okay now? With that answer?”

Susan looked down. “No.”

“No?”

“What did you do? What did we do, to make Gran hate us?”

Emily sighed. “She’ll get over it, I hope. And it’s nothing that you did. It was me.”

“What was it?”

“I lied to her.”

“Lying is a sin?”

“Of course.”

“But you lying to her doesn’t make our house sinful, does it?”

Emily sighed again. Smart children were terribly overrated. “No. But lying was the only thing I did wrong. Whatever else she’s angry about, it wasn’t wrong.”

It wasn’t wrong. And she had never really lied. She had just let her mother assume that she was doing these things for the normal reasons.

Michael was in the living room, his feet up on the coffee table, reading a magazine. She settled against him, leaning her head against his chest. When they were kids they had never thought about this. It had seemed like such a perfect plan. And it was a good plan. They had two perfect kids, and a real life, a real family. It was what she had wanted for so long and never believed she could have.

“Everything okay in there?” He knocked on her head.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Her teacher came to see me today. Suze overheard my argument with Mom, and apparently it’s still bothering her.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he said sadly. “I really never intended…”

“I know. It was an accident. My nosy mother sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I understand why she’s worried about you though. I’m always going to be your family, but can you really live your life without-“

“Shut up.” Emily snapped. “I can’t believe you. That’s not what she’s worried about and you know it. She thinks we have vast immoral, profligate orgies in this house. You think I’m not having enough. I can’t please both of you, and I don’t want to please either of you!”

Michael put his arms around her and cuddled her close, not letting her squirm away. “I just want you to be happy like me!” he said in a silly voice.

“Ooh! Is it cuddle Emily time?” Matt popped his head out of the kitchen stairwell and joined them on the couch, attacking her from the other side. He nuzzled her neck and Michael kissed her cheek. Sam jogged down the stairs and pounced to get into the middle of the tumble.

“God, how did I manage to get surrounded by so many men?” Emily whined, but let them hug her.

Michael laughed. “You like us when we’re skinny boys with too much eyeliner, and then we grow up.”

That was true enough. He had been skinny and lanky with spiky black hair when she had met him at school. Being his friend had been absolutely crazy, especially once he painted her black eyeliner on to match his own and they snuck out to the clubs in south London. But at about 23 he had suddenly expanded in the shoulders and chest, and after his scare he had changed. His art had become more important to him, and he was employed as a costume designer and make-up artist for a popular avant-garde theatre company.

Matt was not too much different than he had been when she had known him at fifteen. It was his loyalty and generosity that had always been important to his character, not his floppy bleached hair and soft body. She had only reconnected with him a few years before, when he was getting out of rehab and entering cooking school. He had supported her when she needed it, and when he needed a place to stay after graduating, while he was looking for a job, she had let him stay. He hadn’t left. He had found a job at a local gastropub and shown no signs of relapsing. She hadn’t made a mistake, letting him come.

It really wasn’t fair. She had everything she had ever wanted. Why couldn’t they let her just be happy with it?

* * *

3: Before you illustrate

Loveaholic

2009-12-02T04:32:35Z

OT blows. FML.

Soooo, I haven't posted anything in a couple of days, because I've been working on papers and suchlike, and... going through multiple stages of self doubt. But that doesn't mean I haven't written anything. I'm pretty sure no one's interested in my paper on loanword clipping in Japanese (*I'm* not interested in my paper on loanword clipping in Japanese), so instead I'm going to post a very... weird fic.

Consider it my Thanksgiving fic, and now that we know who Michael is, perhaps it will be comprehensible.
I didn't like it very much when I wrote it, but then I wrote more, so I'll be interested in seeing what people think.

Title: Loveaholic

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: R

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Apologies: I wrote most of this while coming down with the flu. It may make about that much sense.

Summary: Sometimes the plans you make have a chance to become real. What if what you thought you wanted isn't enough?

1: Upon the sand, upon the bay:

One of the distressing things about having brilliant students was that you really couldn’t take credit for them. They were brilliant when you met them and save traumatic brain injury, they would still be brilliant when you lost touch. But nonetheless, having intelligent, attentive students who were actually interested in what you were teaching, often felt like a gift from a higher power.

Susan Delphine Fleetwood-Prentiss was one such student. Her twin brother Sam (his middle name was apparently Havelock, but he denied it vehemently) was in the same year, and he was clearly intelligent enough to not have to work very hard, but not particularly motivated in anything besides football.

Emma liked teaching first years. It was where the truly excellent began to be separated from the merely competent. It was also the year that required the most discipline and social training. She had found that if a child had the correct instruction in first form, he or she would be successful in later life. If the child did not, secondary school would destroy them. And they needed to be pushed.

Susan was an excellent writer, glib and logical with a vocabulary that left most of her peers in the dust. It had to be environment and upbringing. Emma had seen the patterns. Intelligent parents could have stupid children if they didn’t bother to interact with them, and foolish parents could have brilliant children if they exposed them to words and ideas at every level. Susan had the intellectual confidence provided by attentive intelligent parents. She was also socially awkward enough to be interesting, but it was merely her manner, a little reserved and detached, while her brother was charming and popular. It was an interesting mix.

And then she caught Susan crying in the toilets with scraped knuckles. Emma brought her to her office and did her best, but she would not talk. Afraid she would become angry and close down completely if she pressed, Emma changed the subject, and soon she was smiling and interested again. Emma assigned her an extra project and she hurried off to the library to get going on it while Emma tried route two.

Sam shrugged. “She’s just too sensitive. We’ve always been teased about Mom and Dad after Matt moved in. But nothing’s wrong.” He scuffed his shoe against the rug. “Gran came to visit and was mean again. Maybe that set her off.”

Emma inquired about what she had been mean about, and who on earth Matt was, but he clammed up, and that seemed to be that. It was all rather mysterious. She usually knew what the children were being teased about. She had always thought that Susan’s main issue was being too intelligent for the rest of her classmates, not her family situation.

But it wasn’t fine to have her students crying in the bathroom, and she was rather uncomfortable with not being able to remedy the situation. Then Susan came to her, looking scared and miserable.

“I wanted to ask you, because you’re the smartest person I know. What’s sin?”

An odd shudder ran down Emma’s spine. She did not allow words like that to be used in her classroom.

“It’s a superstition,” she said flatly. “The idea that certain acts are morally reprehensible within themselves, irregardless of their consequences.”

“I don’t really understand.”

“In general,” Emma elaborated. “Killing a person is wrong. But if a man is about to blow up the school, then a policeman would be right to stop him from pressing the button, even if he had to kill him. Is that correct?”

Susan nodded.

“Calling something a sin means that even if the policeman saved a thousand lives, he should still be punished, forever, for killing that one man.”

“That doesn’t sound fair.”

“It isn’t. That’s the problem with sin. The punishment is often far greater than the crime.”

Susan looked down. “But it still means there’s something wrong, doesn’t it? Even if it’s not really wrong, someone thinks it is.”

And that was the problem with too smart students.

“People think many things are wrong, and sinful. You can’t let them decide for you.”

Susan smiled weakly and left, and Emma knew she had to get to the bottom of this.

It was probably against the rules, but Emma hadn’t ever cared too much for rules, so she took the Fleetwood-Prentiss’ address from the headmaster’s files.

They lived in Far Headingly, near the allotments, on a nice plot of land with a garden and a large tree with a rope swing. It was early afternoon and she knew both Sam and Susan had athletics. It was unlikely that the parents would be home, but not impossible, so she went up and knocked on the door. No one was in.

That was pointless. She sighed and turned to walk back into town. She didn’t look where she was going and ran into a woman carrying her shopping up the street.

Cans and boxes scattered everywhere, and a particularly heavy cabbage fell on Emma’s foot.

“Shit!”

“I’m so sorry!”

Emma froze, blinking in surprise. She had a clearly American accent, which was shocking to her after nearly five years in Yorkshire.

“No. It was my fault.” She helped the woman gather up her shopping, taking sidelong glances at her as she did. Dark hair, dark eyes… if she hadn’t looked about twenty-five, Emma would have assumed she was Susan’s mother. But perhaps her elder sister instead? She took the second bag away from her.

“Let me carry this for you.”

The woman smiled shyly, her wide mouth twisting into honest pleasure and slight embarrassment. “It’s right there.” She gestured with her head towards the gate Emma had just exited from.

“Then it’s no trouble at all.” She hoisted the second bag (with the villainous cabbage) and followed her. The woman nodded, smiling again, and unlatched the gate. Her left hand was on the bag. A wedding band glinted on her ring finger. Emma blinked at it in surprise. “Are you, by any chance, Mrs. Fleetwood-Prentiss?” Emma asked.

The woman started and nearly dropped her bag again. “What? W-why-”

“I’m Susan’s homeroom teacher. I was looking for one of her parents.”

The woman kicked open the door to the kitchen and dropped her bag on the table. She turned back to Emma with an embarrassed expression.

“I’m really not used to being called Mrs. Fleetwood-Prentiss, at all . But I guess you do mean me.” She rubbed her forehead, and then stuck her hand out. “I’m Emily, just Prentiss though, I didn’t hyphenate myself.”

Emma took her hand and shook it easily. “I assume you also use Ms, in that case. I apologize for the mistake. I’m Emma Frost.”

Emily smiled. “Susan talks about you a lot. She seems to admire you very much.”

Emma shrugged. “She’s a brilliant child. I did nothing to cause it.”

“Well, I don’t think I did either.” Emily said with a laugh. “She just turned out that way.”

“I doubt that very much.”

Emily flushed and turned away. “Would you like something to drink?”

Emma accepted.

“What… did you come here to talk about?” Emily asked finally. “Is everything all right?”

Emma gave her a long considering look. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What is it?”

“Do you have any ideas?”

Emily looked away, and Emma thought she detected a faint hint of guilt in her expression. “I… really can’t say.”

That said quite enough to Emma. She tightened her jaw. “I really cannot tell you enough how much a credit Susan is to you and your husband. But if you are aware of how much she is hurting right now, and choosing to do nothing, I cannot respect you for that.”

Emily looked away. “I really don’t know how to help her. It’s a private family matter, and I think it may be something she just has to get used to. I would appreciate it if you left it alone.”

“I can’t do that. Not after she came to me to ask what ‘sin’ is. I hope I gave her a satisfactory answer, and that she truly does not have something wrong in this house that she ought to be ashamed of.”

Emily glared at her with flashing eyes. “Don’t you dare come here and judge us!”

“There’s nothing for me to judge.” Emma said flatly. “I know nothing about you. How old are you, Ms. Prentiss.”

“Why is that your business?”

“It isn’t. But It's something I don't know about you.”

“I’m thirty-two.”

“Really?” Emma considered this. “And you are Susan and Sam’s biological parent?”

“Of course.” She frowned. “I graduated college early, didn’t see any reason to wait.” Emily shook her head. “This really is none of your business.”

“Why does your mother think you’re living in sin?”

Emily’s eyes narrowed and she stood up. “Get out of my house. This is not your concern.”

Emma nodded and stood. “You’re the one who needs to speak with her. But if you are doing something that she should be ashamed of, perhaps that’s what you need to change.”

Emily held the door open for her. Emma nodded and walked out.

* * *

2: "There is a quick and easy way" you say

Hellfire 5

2009-11-25T04:34:09Z

Title: Hellfire (5/8?) (Sequel to Human)

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: Emma Frost/Emily Prentiss

Rating: R

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls.

Apologies: Mostly shit I made up about Emily's backstory. Seriously, I now believe this as canon, except, as one must do when translating X-Men into 'real world' mutants=homosexuals, i.e. Legacy virus = AIDS. Two completely unrelated segments.

Summary: Emma's an X-man now, but she wasn't always fighting for truth, justice, and peaceful-coexistence. Emily has had a taste of her past, but is she ready to meet the White Queen?

Emma stretched out on her bed, her arms above her head. The light coming in her window was dim and soft, and she doubted she would sleep easily. Her fingertips itched but her phone was off and buried in her bag. She wanted to think about something distracting, her plans, Sebastian’s plans, god even her irritating students, but thinking about that sort of thing just made her feel sick and tired.

She rolled onto her side and wondered if this was what Jean had meant about her feeling twitchy. If one night with Emily had fixed it (a night and a long lazy morning to be exact) then it was clear she wasn’t having enough sex. At least if the next party wasn’t too political she could probably fix that as well. It wasn’t going to help her sleep tonight though.

There was something different about sleeping with Emily. It was always too hot, but for some reason she never rolled away. And waking up in the morning, having rolled over on her phone, always left her feeling a little lost. At least it wasn’t the fear that it had been, but it wasn’t enough. Talking to her was fine, but it wasn’t touching her.

She couldn’t feel the warmth and solidity of Emily’s body pressed against her. She couldn’t press her lips to her neck and taste her skin. It was the way Emily squeezed her eyes shut, let her lips part and pulled in a quick breath when Emma slid her fingers inside of her that she couldn’t forget, couldn’t get out of her head. And how her shields dropped and how Emma could feel the rough column of fear that ran through her, but was drowned out by trust.

That was what she felt so rarely. That was what she didn’t want to let go. Even the first time, when there was no reason for it, and when the fear was so much brighter and more jagged, she had arched into her, not away. And Emma had been trying to hurt her, trying to make her realize that she wouldn’t like the price of the offering she made. But Emily had lifted her hips and thrust against her, asking for more, not afraid of her. She had been afraid of the act itself, but not of her. Emma hadn’t wanted to let this stupid human make her feel better. She didn’t deserve to feel better. But how could you twist simple trust into something duplicitous?

Emma moved her fingers quicker, kicking the covers off, keeping her eyes closed to remember the way she had looked, straddling her hips, sweat dripping from her hairline even in the cool outdoor African night. And the way she had smiled, sort of guilty, a little intense, and entirely certain that she was going to take what she wanted, and then had.

Emma came with a short gasp and let her hand slow. She rolled over, tucking her sticky fingers under her cheek. She thought that she could likely sleep now. She didn’t doubt her decision; she couldn’t. Not when she could so clearly remember the way it felt to be trusted, even when she didn’t deserve it. She could feel herself losing it, with Emily pushed against the door, giving her that look. Every moment it was farther and farther away, and it was better this way, to cut it off, pull out the roots, and throw it in the chipper. It was better than seeing her turn away.

* * *

Sometimes Ro just showed up to see how she was doing. She usually checked to make sure Emma was at least a thousand miles away, because when they ran into each other it was nasty. But if the coast was clear Ororo would take Emily out to dinner and they would always have a nice time.

But this time Emily opened the door to the late night knock with red eyes and Ororo nearly spun on her heel and marched off to kill Emma.

Emily lunged and grabbed her before she got out the door. “Where are you going?”

“To kill whomever it was who made you cry.”

Emily laughed weakly. “You can’t.”

Ororo gave her a suspicious look, suggesting that she knew that Emily was just saying that to try and stop her.

“I wasn’t crying about Emma.” She grimaced slightly. “I haven’t cried about her yet, and I’m not going to start. I have plenty to cry about that has nothing to do with her.”

Ro sighed. “I believe it. Are you going to invite me in?”

“I brought you some tea. Should I make us some?”

Emily allowed it, and Ororo took her time in the kitchen, allowing Emily a chance to wash her face and regain her composure.

Seated, Emily breathed in the steam rising off her cup. “What is this?”

“I found it while I was in Nigeria. It’s not technically tea, since it’s made by steeping grains and grinding them up with spices. It’s called Kunun Gyada.”

Emily tasted hers and leaned back, enjoying it. Ororo watched her for a long moment.

“Am I allowed to ask about what made you cry if it wasn’t our mutual… friend?”

“I’ll give you the long version, since I love a captive audience.” Emily seemed easy enough, but it was a blatant front. Ororo didn’t respond and waited for her to talk her way out of her defenses. She always ended up confessing to her, even if she never confessed to anyone else. Perhaps it had something to do with their childhood together. Ororo thought that Emily kept many secrets from those she only had met as an adult.

She stood up instead of speaking and went to her stereo, pressing play without putting in a disc and lowering the volume until it only softly filled the background. Ororo tipped her head inquiringly.

Emily smiled. “Siouxsie and the Banshees,” she filled in. “You could say that listening to this was what made me cry.” She sat and picked up her drink, and looked down into it. “When we left Italy, my mother was transferred to the Ukraine. But it was part of Soviet Russia, and there weren’t really any good international schools, so she left me in London at a boarding school. I met a boy there.” She gave a broad grin as if expecting Ro to interpret that statement in an interesting way. Ororo, however, knew Emily, and merely looked at her with slight disapproval. “He was… older, and very pretty, and most definitely a rule breaker.”

“And you immediately fell in love with him,” Ororo filled in dryly.

Emily laughed. “It amounted to that in the end. I loved him very much. Probably because he was completely gay and extremely non-threatening. And because, what he did for me… it probably saved my life.”

Ororo frowned. “What did he do?”

“He was my best friend.” Emily paused and thought for a moment. “His name was Michael,” she finally said. “His family was from the north, Yorkshire, out in the countryside, and he had had a hard time adjusting to London. I had a hard time adjusting to… everything, a hard time finding my bearings after what had happened in Italy. And he gave me someone who would listen, someone who made sure I went out and did things and stopped being afraid of having a good time. We went out to clubs in the South End whenever there were Goth bands playing. And I mean whenever. We must have gone to every single concert. We snuck out so many times, and were caught, and had so many demerits.” She grinned, laughing to herself. “He’s the one who let me believe that it really was all right if I wasn’t attracted to boys, and that it didn’t mean I had to be interested in girls either. And when I was finally ready to admit that I was actually interested in girls, he made me go out and embarrass myself by trying to talk to them.” Emily winced. “I think it was good for me in the long run.”

“He invited me home with him for break, and I didn’t want to go to the Ukraine, so I went to Yorkshire instead. And his parents had sheep.” She seemed mildly elated by this, and Ororo tried not to be shocked. “And they loved me… not the sheep, his parents. (The sheep were generally uninterested in my presence.) I mean, they knew he was gay, and they were generally supportive of it, and I think they sussed me out pretty quick. But his parents always bothered him about grandchildren. That made me uncomfortable at first, but I got used to it, and then they started in on me. At about the third break I spent there, they had pretty much adopted me. I wrote them more often than I wrote my own mother. And someone made the joke that Michael and I could get married and have children and still pursue our… outside interests.” Emily smiled with a pensive melancholic sweetness.

Ororo snorted. “You didn’t think that was going to work?”

“We were going to do it.”

Ororo gaped at her earnestness.

Emily ducked her head. “Michael thought it was probably his only chance to have kids of his own, and I… I just wanted to be part of a family.”

“I was going to stay in the UK for university, and then after college we’d work out where we were going to go and what we were going to do there, and get married. I was planning on going to Leeds University and living with Michael’s family while I studied there, or maybe peace studies in Bradford. But my mother flipped out and made me go to Yale. We started out with drastic international phone bills that drove my mother nuts. Not that she couldn’t afford it, she just thought I wasn’t studying or making new friends. But suddenly, two years in, he stopped calling me, and wouldn’t take my calls.”

Emily looked down, an expression of strain crossing her face. “It was an awful year, but I eventually had to just get used to it that we weren’t friends anymore. I graduated and my mother finagled me a job somewhere. And then he called me again, to tell me he was dying.” She took in a rough breath.

Ororo sat up in surprise. But really, why should she have been surprised.

“He was a mutant, nothing big. He could touch something and change its color.” Emily laughed weakly. “You don’t want to know what he did to my hair, but it was gorgeous.” She swallowed. “And in one of his nightclubs, looking for a hookup, he caught the legacy virus.”

Ororo sighed. They had tried so hard to stop that, and failed so many people. And then her friend had sacrificed himself for the cure. He had known that they had already lost too many people to this disease, his own sister among them.

“That was why he had stopped calling me. When he found out he contracted it, he didn’t know how to tell me. He didn’t know how to tell anyone. But when he knew he was actually dying, he called me. I flew to be with him, I was a human, so it didn’t matter that I had to go into quarantine. I quit my job, just dropped everything. I hoped every day that he would recover, that they would find a cure, and every day all I heard was ‘these people deserve to die.’ I was losing my best friend and no one cared.”

Her voice broke and Ororo reached out and took her hand.

“I miss him. I miss him so much. God, it’s been eight, nearly nine years. But sometimes it feels like he was the only one who ever really loved me. And he was the one I belonged with, because we weren’t everything to each other. We were just enough. But I’m not enough for anyone else.”

Ororo didn’t respond to this, although she felt that she knew why Emily had been thinking about him today, and just pulled her into her embrace.

* * *

The Devil You Know

2009-11-23T03:55:55Z

Title: The Devil You Know (3/3)

Author: Alsike

Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds x-over

Pairing: JJ/Emily, Emma/Sebastian, Emma/Emily, Emma/Emily/Sebastian, Emma/Emily/JJ/Sebastian
(Yes, there is sex involving all 4 combinations.)

Rating: NC-17 (It really deserves it! See prompts)

AN/Disclaimer: Not my girls, or boy.

Word Count: 7401

Prompt: 033. Double-Penetration & 036. Threesome
This definitely counts as both as it is 14 pages and massive amounts of explicit sex. Including some that involves an actual male. Although I wouldn't go so far as to call it het. And a 4some! Prompt, I one up thee.

Apologies: I'm going to blame the CM kink meme for putting me on a bad train of thought this week, although the integral part has been written for some months. And at some point, some mysterious person made a kink prompt that was Emily and JJ, having sex for the first time, and finding out that one of them has an interesting piercing. Well, for whoever prompted that, this is my spin on it. It was a lovely prompt.

And still worse.

“Working late?” Emily asked as she stepped quietly into Emma’s office.

Emma glanced over at her and gave her a smile. “Just grading, as always.” She flinched, shrugging her shoulders and rubbing her nape. Emily moved up behind her chair and slid her fingers down the sides of her neck.

“What are you doing?”

Emily sank her thumbs into Emma’s shoulders, and she let out a rough sigh. “Making you feel good.” She pressed her cheek against silky hair.

“You always do.” Emma went back to her grading, twisting every once in a while as Emily kneaded the kinks out of her shoulders and back. She was nearly done when she felt Emily press a light kiss to the side of her neck.

“Getting bored?”

Emily licked at where she had kissed. “Just… hungry.”

“… Do you want to go out?”

Emily blinked. “Is Sebastian-“

“Don’t think about him. He can fend for himself for one night. Do you want to go out?”

“Sure.”

Emma cocked her head. “Even if I dress you?”

Emily flushed, but she didn’t mind. She never felt quite as sexy as when Emma dressed her, and she loved that Emma liked to show her off.

“And your outdoor collar.”

“Of course.”

-

“Emily! Emiliiiiie!”

“What is it Sebastian?” Emily stepped into the hallway, half dressed in a slinky chemise, falling off her shoulder.

Sebastian blinked, and then blinked again, staring at the door she had come out of. “You slept in there?”

Emily frowned. “Yes. Now why were you yelling my name?”

“Phone,” he said. Then furrowed his brows. “She honestly let you sleep there?”

Emily rubbed her eyes and a ligature mark on her wrist as she started heading for the nearest telephone. “I fell asleep.”

“I’ve fallen asleep there too, but she always throws me out. She must really like you.”

“Of course she likes me. She likes to fuck me too.”

“I think she really likes you,” he sang teasingly. “Should I start planning the wedding?”

“Fuck off.” Emily rolled her eyes and picked up the phone, hitting the line. “Emily Prentiss speaking… aah! Mom, hi.”

She glared at Sebastian who grinned and wandered off.

-

Sebastian wandered into the living room, loosening his ascot and spotted Emma on the couch with a book and a naked Emily asleep with her head in her lap.

“Wore her out already?”

Emma peered at him over her glasses and arched an eyebrow wryly. “I’m sure it was a long week.”

“You never let me drool on you.”

Emma glanced down and touched her middle finger to the corner of Emily’s mouth, then stroked her lower lip softly. She shrugged absently.

“You never let me do a lot of things that you let her do.”

Emma frowned. “What’s this about?”

Sebastian made an awkward face. “I was thinking of staying at my club for a while.”

“Why?” Emma stiffened slightly, glancing down at the sleeping woman in her lap for one spare moment.

“To… give you some time alone?”

“We don’t need time alone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Emma hissed.

Sebastian seemed surprised at her vehemence. “Are you afraid of having me gone? We’ve been together for a long time, Emma, but if it’s over we shouldn’t pretend it isn’t.”

“What? What are you even talking about?”

His eyes dropped pointedly.

“She’s my pet. She’s not my lover.”

“Maybe not, but neither am I. I’m not saying it’s her fault. You were getting bored with me before you found her. It was probably because of her that I stayed around as long as I did, because you needed me for the training. But you don’t need me anymore.”

“Yes, I do.”

“What for?”

Emma carefully extricated herself from her pet and shoved Sebastian into the hallway. “I don’t know how to be with her!”

“You don’t seem to be having much trouble with that.”

“Because of you.” Emma glared at him. “You let me divide my attention. She can be my slut, she can be my pet, but she can’t-“ Emma’s expression twisted uncomfortably.

“She can’t be your everything.” Sebastian sighed. Why did all the women he knew make a habit of getting in their own way?

“You can’t go.”

“Are you that afraid of making her feel important?”

“You know it has nothing to do with that!”

And Sebastian did know. He had known since the flight home from Minneapolis trying to make conversation with a woman who went from irritable to highly enraged in under a second. He had been basking in the pleasant afterglow and she had had a lot more sex than he had that night. It was clear that Emma knew it too and was running scared.

“How hard is it, to be with someone because you care about them?”

Emma didn’t answer, but it was clear that it was far too difficult to attempt.

In the room behind Emily opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, wishing she hadn’t heard what she just had.

That had been the beginning of the end. In six months the threesome was scattered along the east coast.

* * *

“Hey!”

JJ glanced up at Emily’s excited hail, though it wasn’t directed at her.

“You came!”

A woman with bleached-blonde hair, in a calf-length white leather coat, Ray Bans, and high-heeled white lace-up boots, was standing next to a dark-haired man in a velvet and satin smoking jacket and an ascot tie. They looked like something out of a carnival, but Emily ran up to greet them like a puppy.

It was them. JJ stalked up behind Emily.

“Well, I had to be in town for a conference with my lobby, and Sebastian said he missed you, so here we are,” the woman was saying with an arch, aristocratic lilt in her voice.

JJ coughed pointedly, and Emily glanced back. “Um, did you need something?”

JJ glared.

“Oh.” Emily frowned. “This is Emma and Sebastian. I’ve told you about them.” She turned back to the carnival people and smiled shyly. “This is Jennifer.”

Emma lifted her sunglasses and peered at her appraisingly. “Your girlfriend?”

Emily wrinkled her nose and shifted from one foot to another. “Not really.”

JJ stiffened in shock.

“You know it doesn’t matter,” Emma said, giving Emily a sharp look.

“I know.” Emily ducked her head and pushed a lock of hair back over her ear. “But I only belong to one person.”

Emma smiled and slipped her arm through Emily’s. “She can come if she wants.”

Sebastian offered her his hand. JJ stared at it, and then she stared at Emily again. She didn’t know this woman, not someone who would completely forget her like that. Finally she took Sebastian’s arm and followed the two women to the limo.

On the ride Emily had already squirmed into the bitch’s lap and they were sucking face. In minutes the blonde had her hand down Emily’s pants and was bringing her off. JJ just gaped at the sight.

“So,” Sebastian said with a cheery grin that seemed to completely disregard the wanton fuckery that was happening on the seats across. “Are you an FBI agent as well?”

“Um, yes. But I do more PR work and logistics.”

“Not so much gun waving?”

Emily had dropped down and was unbuttoning Emma’s shirt with her mouth. JJ was very distracted. “Oh, well, I’ve always done some of that.”

The limo pulled up outside Emily’s condo and JJ nearly fell on her face as she got out trying to see if Emily really was being carried up the steps. She couldn’t exactly tell, but it looked like it. Sebastian steadied her and escorted her inside. The hallway was deserted and they walked down it towards Emily’s bedroom.

“Is the girl ready to play?” a haughty voice called out, and Sebastian gave JJ a smile.

“Well, are you?”

Emma, her white coat and shirt gone, was sitting on the grand chair across from the door. Emily, only in the dress shirt she had worn to work, was sprawled languidly across her lap, sucking on her fingers. It was a bit much.

Sebastian was unbuttoning his waistcoat, having shrugged out of his smoking jacket and unwound his Ascot. JJ glanced uncomfortably at his trousers. There was an incredible bulge there, but he seemed hardly to be in a rush.

“Jennifer, strip,” said Emily, with a pleasure in her tone that JJ had never heard directed at her. She doubted that this instance was for her either. “If you want to play you have to put on a show.”

She felt a little bit like an outflanked chaperone and awkwardly got out of her suit dress, standing exposed in her underwear. Sebastian, by that time, was only in silk boxers distended by his massive prick.

“Lie down,” Emma commanded him. He obeyed easily and adjusted his boxers until they hid nothing. His long thick cock jutted out of the slit and his balls settled on the background of peacock blue and purple. It was completely hairless and JJ stared in shock. Was she in a porn flick?

“New girl!” Emma caught JJ’s attention with the epithet. “Take off those scraps. Better to wear nothing than unattractive underwear. And suck him. I want to see how much of that you can get down your throat.”

Emily laughed, and JJ felt shocked and betrayed. She really wanted her to suck some stranger’s cock? But she had. She had taken it in her, having never even spoken to the man, and she didn’t even like cock. JJ felt the familiar burn of competition and quickly stripped out of her underwear. Her body was nothing to be ashamed of, and the fact was, she was almost looking forward to climbing on that massive prick and getting thoroughly fucked.

She knelt on the bed between Sebastian’s legs. “You’re very pretty,” he said, charmingly. “I do love the way pretty girls look with their mouths full.”

She heard a chuckle and glanced over. It was Emma. Emily wasn’t even paying attention! Her head was tipped back and it looked like she was about to come with Emma’s fingers moving easily inside her. She let out a deep heartfelt groan, thrashing slightly, when she did, and JJ almost forgot what she had been about to do. She had never seen Emily come like that! Not with that much noise or motion. She turned her head away swiftly, so they wouldn’t notice her watching, and the cock knocked her in the face.

Sebastian laughed. “If you aren’t comfortable with this…”

JJ lowered her head and pulled the dick into her mouth with her tongue. She let it slide in deep until it brushed against her velum, and then slid it out until her lips circled the neck, sucking steadily. It wasn’t even a third of the length. She bobbed up and down, working her tongue around the head. Sebastian was making low pleased noises, but she wasn’t getting very much of it down at all. She pressed in deep, forcing him against the back of her throat, but he was too thick and hard to bend down the tight channel.

“You’re not relaxing,” Emma snapped and then fingers were tightly wound in her hair, pulling it sharply, and she was being shoved down. With the pain in her scalp her jaw had dropped and her throat had widened and Sebastian’s cock slid down the passage, cutting off her air and choking her. Her eyes widened and she started to struggle, but Emma held her head in place with a firm grip. Her eyes teared up, but she couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything to make her let her go.

Emily didn’t do anything.

“Now swallow.”

Humiliated JJ did her best to obey. Sebastian let out a light groan and the hand was out of her hair. She jerked off the cock, hacking and gasping, trying to get her systems running again. She looked furiously over to Emily, who had moved to the bed, but was still in Emma’s lap. She just grinned back.

“That was hot.”

Emma was watching her with sharp eyes and laughed at her horrified expression. She moved Emily to lie on her front on the bed, and slid up her long shirt, exposing her ass. She selected a bottle from the side table and opened it, dipping her fingers inside and scooping out some of the contents. Then she handed it to JJ.

“Well, get on with it. Use your breasts. If God gave you them, you might as well put them to some purpose.” Then her fingers slid into Emily’s ass, and she keened.

JJ desperately wanted to watch and felt herself get wet at the sound. But she knew she couldn’t disobey. She spread the lube over her chest, and then leaned close, hovering over Sebastian’s cock until it slotted right into place. She cupped her breasts and closed them around the shaft. It was awkward to keep her balance like that, but Sebastian reached out and supported her shoulders so she could slide up and down on his pole.

-

JJ was on her stomach on top of Emily, legs spread, every orifice full, but somehow she felt like an afterthought. Sebastian was fucking her ass, humping at a frenzied rhythm, and Emily was thrusting a thick strap-on into her cunt, slow and easy. But she was lying back, her head tilted away, and kissing Emma. There was something about it that suggested that nothing could distract her. Not the girl she was drilling a hole in, not even an earthquake.

Bruised and aching and sated, JJ groaned as she leaned against the pillows. Sebastian flopped next to her.

“You’re done?” she asked him.

“I need recharging time. I can never keep up with them.” He rolled his eyes at the other women. Emily had gotten out her restraints again and she was crawling down Emma’s body, leaving a trail of bite marks and kisses like Hansel and Gretel with their bread crumbs. “And Emma says I miss her.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course I miss having her around. She was always good for a laugh. But I have plenty of girls to fuck. It’s Emma who needs this.”

“So they’re always like this? This… absorbed in each other?”

Sebastian glanced over and gave her a smile. “You really thought you were her girlfriend, didn’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I have?” JJ spat.

“No reason at all.” He shook his head. “I really thought I was Emma’s boyfriend for a while. But we can’t hold their attention, not for long, not in the way they can hold each other’s.”

-

Emily was giving her mistress a particularly pet-like nuzzling sort of goodbye, and JJ stood awkwardly, trying to stay out of the way and put her shoes back on. Sebastian smiled at her and handed her a card.

“Thank you. Your company was very pleasant.”

“You’re welcome, I guess,” replied JJ, rather bemused. “Yours was as well.” She looked at the card,

“That’s my club. There’s a branch near the Mall. You should go.” He smiled again, broadly. “It’s my personal card. They’ll recognize it, and give you the special treatment.”

“Uh, thanks,” she said. The rather demonic image that was the logo was not encouraging. Neither was the name “Hellfire.”

He slapped her shoulder and chuckled. “Didn’t Emily tell you? You’re with the devil now.”

JJ cringed. “Actually, she did mention that.”

“Don’t worry. Emma’s retired from active participation in the club.”

Emma slid into the limo, the stiletto heel of her fuck-me boot the last thing to disappear and Sebastian hurried to follow.

Emily’s shoulders sank slightly as the car rounded the corner and disappeared. She tuned back to JJ with a sad smile on her face. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Fun?” JJ’s voice rose into an embarrassing shriek at the end. “God! For a genius you really are an idiot aren’t you?” She had one of her shoes in her hand and was gesticulating wildly. “Just, go and tell that hell-bitch of a woman that you’re ready to marry her, for chrissake!”

Stomping like broken wind-up toy in one shoe, JJ stormed off down the sidewalk.
She had to slow down and hail a taxi after less than a block. She was a little too well-fucked to walk.

FIN